


As the crow flies

by lightly



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Death, Drama, Immortals, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 16:05:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 42,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightly/pseuds/lightly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Immortals, they fight for the right and the power to rule the earth. The gathering has started and group of mortals are in the wrong place at the wrong time, getting pulled into a bloody battle and becoming pawns in a sadistic game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What’s past is prologue…AKA the prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based on the Highlander TV series.

_Prague. Club S(ex). 2am. Three weeks previous._

 

Kangin feels it the second the other Immortal enters the club. To Kangin the presence of another of his kind is like an incessant buzzing in his head. He’s heard other Immortals describe the feeling as being like static on the radio, if you concentrate hard enough you can tune into each others individual stations. But Kangin doesn’t hold to that esoteric bullshit. To Kangin, it’s an irritation, like a fly in his ear. Usually when out in public like this he can shut it out, put up make shift walls in his head. But right now? Right now he is very, very, very drunk. So he can’t do that. He feels the other Immortal weave their way through the sparse crowd, heading towards him. Kangin tries to decide if he’s capable of getting up and making a quick and speedy exit. He decides that, no, he really isn’t.

Dammit.

 

He’s slumped down low in his seat, halfway to slipping to the floor. The glasses and bottles from the nights bender are collected in front of him, piled high like a house of cards. They would make one glittering mess should they fall. His poor waitress keeps trying to clear them all away but he won’t let her, he likes to watch his collection grow. He has a kaleidoscopic view of the other Immortal as it/he/she approaches. It’s hard to identify anything through the barricade of glass. It’s a honeycomb of red and black that Kangin sees before him, at least it is until the coloured blurs fly forward and start rearranging the mess. Suddenly his unwanted companion snaps into focus.

“God, Youngwoon,” the newcomer says, his beautiful mouth curling in distaste. “You’re disgusting.”

“Well, hello and fuck you too, Heechul.” Kangin says. Or at least he tries too. His words are slurred, his voice feels heavy, his tongue feels too big for his mouth. Kangin reaches for the glass the waitress has just set down, he finds it empty. He blinks at it and can’t remember when he drank it. He sighs and places the glass top down in the space Heechul has just cleared. There now, that’s better, if he slumps down lower still then the new addition just about obscures Heechul’s face and that stupid, condescending, girly, bitch ass smirk. Now, maybe, if he works on ignoring Heechul fully and concentrates hard enough, maybe Heechul will just turn out to be a figment of his drunk ass imagination.

Except…wait…

Kangin sits up a little, or at least he tries too. He leans forward a little—again or at least he tries to. He peers at his old friend, blinks, shakes his head, blinks again.

“Chullie-ah?” he starts to say, his words still slurred, his voice still heavy. “Chullie-ah, what in the ever flying fuck have you done to your hair?”

 

“Bitch,” Heechul says, twirling a lock of bright red hair around a slender finger. “You wish you were this pretty.”

 

||

 

 _Still Prague. Outside Club S(ex). 2.30am. Still three weeks previous._

 

Even at this late (early) hour the streets are still a riotous mess of drunk tourists and enterprising locals. No one gives them a second look as they stumble out of the club and into the night (morning). Kangin shuffles along in the wake of his epic alcohol consumption while Heechul falters under the strain of keeping Kangin upright and steady.

“I’d say this stuff will kill you, but you and I both know that it won’t.” Heechul Huffs.

“It’ll still hurt like hell in the morning though.” Kangin says. His voice is slightly stronger now. The cool ‘early hour of the morning’ air is having an effect on him, it starts to soothe his drunken daze…or maybe it just hammers home just how drunk he actually is. Kangin half expects Heechul to ask him why he does this to himself, especially now. But he knows that Heechul already knows. Knows that Heechul is probably going to want to talk about it and won’t that be an experience rich in smiles and sunshine.

Kangin thinks that he might just like to throw up now.

It takes Kangin a few minutes—or maybe a bit longer than that—to realize that he is being pulled in the wrong direction. Kangin is staying in a hostel a few blocks over. Kangin likes hostels, even if they do make him feel a little old at times. With all his years behind him it’s hard to remember that the world still perceives him as being 23. Kangin likes the come and go anonymity that hostels provide, he likes that no one asks questions and he loves that there is often some pretty young thing ready to warm his cot should he be in the mood.

Heechul however, hates any place where there is no room service and god forbid he should ever have to share space with the unwashed masses.

Kangin doesn’t think he wants to go to Heechul’s hotel room. He also doesn’t think he has all that much of a choice. The grip Heechul has on his arm is close to crushing and the grip Kangin has on consciousness is getting closer to tenuous. The last thing he hears is Heechul’s irate (and rightly so) voice…

“Youngwoon, you rat bastard. Don’t you dare pass out on me!”

 

||

 

 _Still Prague, he thinks. Heechul’s hotel room, probably. Sometime in the morning. Two weeks and six days previous._

 

When Kangin wakes the world around him is that special brand of hotel beige. It’s bland and inoffensive but it’s still too bright for his too sensitive eyes. The surface underneath him is comfortable but slightly confining and it’s only when he tries to move that he finds out it’s a sofa. He falls out of it.

“About fucking time you woke up.”

Heechul’s voice is loud and harsh and Kangin finds himself wishing for the haven of drunken oblivion again.

No such luck however.

“Get up, asshole. There’s breakfast.”

Kangin really, really doesn’t think he wants food right now. Still, he hauls himself up anyway, half afraid that Heechul will drag him up if he doesn’t move himself. He drops into a chair at the table where Heechul sits, he doesn’t even look at the food in front of him.

Heechul’s hotel room is more of a suite, Kangin having spent the remainder of the night on the sofa in the living/dining room area. There are three closed doors. Bedroom, bathroom, way out. Kangin decides to give himself a few minutes to get his sea legs back before making a break for door number three. He didn’t know exactly what time it was but there had to be a bar open somewhere. The cold, harsh light of sobriety was leaving him vulnerable to the call. He could feel it pulling at him, the need to go, to play, to kill. Kangin doesn’t know how Heechul can stand it. Doesn’t know how Heechul can sit there all calm and quiet and not freaking the hell out.

Now that he can see it properly he notices just how bright Heechul’s hair is, so bright it makes him dizzy.

“Your hair is making me dizzy.”

“Bathroom’s that way.”

Kangin all but runs to it.

*

It takes a good ten minutes before he starts to feel even barely human again. He washes his face, brushes his teeth with a complementary toothbrush, though he debates using Heechul’s for one quick second. He leaves the bathroom clear headed and straight backed but he still doesn’t think he’s ready for the conversation Heechul obviously wants to have.

Heechul is waiting for him.

“No.” Kangin says before Heechul can open his mouth to speak.

“Really, Youngwoon,” Heechul says. “It’s not like you have a choice.”

Kangin glowers at him and slumps back down in his chair. He picks up a slice of toast, it’s cold and he eats it dry, it helps to settle his stomach a little more.

“Siwon called.” Heechul says. Says it so casually, like it’s not some huge deal. Kangin curses under his breath. “He says he needs us. Both of us. He never asks for help.”

“But now he needs us?”

“Yeah, now he needs us.”

Kangin thinks that they both might just be screwed.

*

Heechul tells him that Siwon needs them to come home. Not wants, needs. The gathering has started and for this one fate/the universe/what the fuck ever has chosen Seoul as the battleground. Kangin had designs on sitting this one out, planned on being drunk off his ass and half a world away. But now…now…

“You can’t tell him no.” Heechul says and Kangin knows that he’s right. But Kangin wants to say no. He wants to—just for a little while—say no and for once to be in control of himself, in control of his own damn destiny.

He leaves.

Heechul doesn’t try to stop him or follow him. Kangin knows that this is just a temporary reprieve.

 

||

 

 _Malgrat De Mar. Club Q. 11pm. Two weeks previous._

 

The club is almost empty, it won’t get busy for at least another hour. The tourists in this tourist town are still getting their swerve on in the cheap bar shacks next to their not so cheap hotels. Kangin tells himself that he will leave as soon as the dance floor starts to fill up.

Someone sits next to him, out of the corner of his eye Kangin sees a slender frame and bright, bright red hair. Kangin groans.

“Following you around Europe is getting pretty fucking old.” Heechul says.

“Then stop it, I don’t care.”

“Listen up shit for brains, I’m not doing this for kicks and giggles.”

“I know.”

“Then come home with me.”

“I haven’t been home for about a century.”

“Then don’t you think it’s time?”

“Not really, no.”

“Watching you play the brooding hero is getting pretty fucking old too. Grow a pair dip shit, come home. And don’t you fucking walk away from me Youngwoon! Don‘t you fucking dare!”

 

||

 

 _Dusseldorf. Airport. 7.15am. One week previous._

 

“Siwon called again.” Heechul says. No hello, no snide remark. “He says Kibum’s back in Seoul.”

Kangin feels his lip curl. Feels his hand tighten on the handle of his bag. Feels his heart try to beat its way out of his chest. He hopes Heechul doesn’t notice that he’s shaking. There are a thousand questions he wants to ask. He wants to know if Heechul is sure that’s what Siwon said. He wants to know how the fuck Siwon can know half the shit he does when he doesn’t set foot off Holy Ground. Who is spying for him? Does Kibum know that he’s been seen?

“Well,” Kangin says eventually and he‘s surprised that his voice comes out even and sounding calm. “It’s a good job that’s where we’re going isn’t it?”

“What are you going to do if you see him?”

“When I see him, I am going to kill him. Honestly Chullie-ah, that’s a fucking stupid question.”

 

 

…End prologue.


	2. Chapter one: A mysterious man walks into an alley…there is no punch line.

_Three weeks later._

 

Seoul in the early hours is beautiful, even as it is dangerous. Jungsu loves seeing the sights at night, loves the way the lights reflect off the river, loves the way life just exists all around him. He’s not an idiot though, despite what Kyuhyun thinks and says, he knows the world—or at least the city around him—isn’t all wine and roses, but he’s always been one of those annoying glass half full types. He chooses to see the good in things first and the bad things not at all if possible.

Still, he’s not an idiot. The city at night isn’t exactly conducive to running late night errands in safety. Tonight he’s got Sungmin with him and if he’s honest he would say that’s the way he prefers it. Kyuhyun is tall and all and can be imposing…when he sets his mind to it. But Sungmin can lure you in, all cute smiles and dimples and then turn around and beat you down.

Not that Jungsu condones violence. At all.

It’s the end of the night run to the night safe at the bank. Jungsu’s got the nights taking wrapped in a leather pouch and stuffed down his zipped up jacket. He knows that Sungmin’s got his back as they make their way down the dark streets. They usually do this run in pairs, those pairs normally consist of Jungsu and Sungmin or Kyuhyun, except for that one time Jungsu went off on his own. He’d spent the following week in hospital.

“You should have just given them the money.” Ryeowook had said after. “It wasn’t worth this.”

Jungsu didn’t hear the men coming. Sungmin did, but not until it was already too late.

‘These aren’t muggers.’ The thought flashes through his head as an arm closes over his throat and he’s pulled back into an alley. It takes two men to get hold of Sungmin. Jungsu loses sight of his friend briefly as he is jerked back and shoved against a wall. He turns round to face his attacker, his back pressed against rough bricks. He sees Sungmin being dragged into the alley, Jungsu notes with not a small amount of satisfaction that one of the men with him now has a bloody lip.

Jungsu doesn’t know how he knows that these men aren’t your run of the mill muggers. Something about how the look in their eyes is more calculating than desperate. And, while they have blades, they aren’t the stylized knives and shanks favoured by gangs and drug addicts.

These men have swords.

Jungsu doesn’t know enough about swords to identify the types, but these are long and deadly and Jungsu thinks that he and Sungmin are about to die.

“Keep him still.” One of the men with Sungmin says. The man isn’t Korean, his words are laced with an accent that Jungsu can’t place, but from what Jungsu can see of the colour of the mans’ skin he looks to be Mediterranean. Sungmin is fighting hard, his face flushed with effort, with anger. Jungsu tries to push passed his assailant to get to Sungmin but he just gets shoved back into the wall. Jungsu’s attacker is Korean, bloody lip seems to be Chinese, but in the dim light cast by street lamps it’s hard to be sure.

Jungsu doesn’t understand what’s going on.

“Hurry up and do it.” Bloody lip says and from the tone of his voice Jungsu thinks that he must be the one in charge. But in charge of what? Fear blooms harsh and heavy in Jungsu’s stomach as the Mediterranean man raises his sword to Sungmin’s throat.

“What about this one?” Jungsu’s captor asks.

“We’ll have to kill him too, he’s seen our faces.”

“So pretty, though.” Jungsu’s captor croons leaning in closer and running a calloused finger over Jungsu’s cheek. “Such a waste.”

Jungsu whimpers a little, turns his face away. The mans’ breath is fetid, his teeth rotten.

“Hey! Leave him alone” Sungmin yells and Jungsu hears the sound of flesh hitting flesh and muffled cry of pain. Jungsu wants to run. He wants to grab Sungmin and just go. But fear, _cowardice_ , keep him rooted to the spot.

“Whose turn is it?” Bloody lip asks.

“Mine.” Both of the other men say in unison.

“Mine.” The Mediterranean man says, louder, firmer.

“Fine,” Jungsu’s captor says. “You can have it, as long as I get to keep this one.”

“Remember what happened last time you kept a mortal pet?” Bloody lip sneers. “No. Kill him now.”

 _A mortal what?_

A quiet anger starts to push its way through the fear. Jungsu is determined he’s not going to go out like this. Not in some seedy alley, _not like this._ Sungmin isn’t going quietly, Jungsu swears he won’t either. He grabs his attackers hair and yanks it hard. It’s long and greasy but Jungsu gets a good grip, he feels stands of it come away as he pulls. His attacker yells at him to…

“Let the fuck go!”

But Jungsu just uses the man’s disorientation to knee him good and hard in the groin. The man falls, his sword clattering to the ground. Jungsu stumbles away from the wall.

“Sungmin?” He calls.

Sungmin is already one step ahead of him. Bloody lip is on the ground and Sungmin has his sword raised and ready.

“Give it up, boy.” The Mediterranean man sneers. “Before you cut yourself with that thing.”

“Sungmin?” Jungsu says helplessly. He doesn’t know what to do now. It’s two against one but it won’t stay that way for long. In fact it doesn’t stay that way for long at all, strong arms wrap around Jungsu’s waist and he’s pulled back against a firm body. The man Jungsu just put down quickly got back up and the fight seems to be having some effect on him. Jungsu can feel the man’s erection pressing against his rear.

“Oh this is fun, pretty.” The man says. “I do like ‘em feisty.”

“Enough.” Bloody lip spits out, staggering back to his feet. “Drop the sword kid, it’s over.”

“Awww, so soon?” A new voice cuts though the melee. Jungsu looks up, two more men stand in the mouth of the alley. They also have swords, they both hold the weapons with a frighteningly practised ease. One man is slender and looks more like a boy standing there with his bright red hair and ‘come get me sneer’. The other is taller, muscular, his hair buzz cut with an intricate pattern shaved into one side. This is the one that steps forward, his expression grim.

“You,” he says, jabbing a finger in the direction of Jungsu’s captor. “You let him go and you,” he gestures at Sungmin. “You give me that sword.”

Sungmin falters, indecision written clearly on his face. Jungsu’s captor does not let go, if anything he holds on tighter. Jungsu is starting to find it hard to breathe.

“We found him first.” Jungsu’s captor says. “Go away.”

“Such small game.” The muscular newcomer says. “You call this sport?”

“Is that a challenge?”

“There’s three of you.” The red haired man says, there is laughter in his voice. “One of you will have to wait his turn.”

The man holding Jungsu laughs and buries his face in the crook of Jungsu’s neck. Jungsu stiffens, screws his eyes shut. The man takes a long, deep breath and groans with pleasure.

“You smell so good, pretty.” He says. “We could have had such fun. Hey you! Catch!”

And suddenly there is nothing holding Jungsu but air and he’s falling, falling until just as suddenly he isn’t and he finds himself caught in a one armed embrace. The muscled newcomer looks down at him, his eyes kind, his expression now concerned.

“You okay?” He asks and Jungsu can only nod. “Good, now get out of the way.” Jungsu is gently shoved to the side. His legs feel shaky and weak, he’s not sure they’ll hold him up for long so he lets himself slide to the floor. “And you kid! Give me that sword.”

This time Sungmin relinquishes the blade and then he’s by Jungsu’s side, a reassuring presence. Jungsu is taking long slow breaths, like that might help him calm down.

“What’s going on?” Sungmin asks. Jungsu just shakes his head.

The next few minutes become hard to track. Jungsu’s world becomes a blur of violence and the snick snick of metal crashing against metal.

“Shit! Youngwoon!” The red haired man cries and Jungsu watches with a dread filled fascination as his saviour falls.

“Quick, let’s get out of here.” Bloody lip yells and the three men who started this scramble up and run. Jungsu doesn’t watch them go, all he sees is the man—Youngwoon?—on the ground. And he sees the blood. There is too much blood.

“Chullie-ah,” The man says, his voice faltering and weak. “After them.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” The red head growls.

“Heechul,” the man’s voice is firmer, but no stronger. “Get at least one of them, they can’t be left to walk around.”

“You fucker, don’t you do this to me. I swear if I have to carry your ass back…again…”

“Chul..go!”

“Fine.” And with that the red haired man is gone, he doesn’t even look back.

“Oh no.” Jungsu whispers as he crawls to where the injured man lies. “Oh no no no no no.”

The man—Youngwoon—his gut is sliced open and Jungsu doesn’t even know where to begin trying to stem the blood. He tears off his jacket, not even noticing the leather pouch falling to the floor. Sungmin picks it up and cradles it to his chest. Jungsu presses the garment to the wound, in seconds it’s soaked in blood.

“No no no no no.” Jungsu mumbles over and over, but it’s no good. The man is bleeding out and Jungsu can’t do anything to stop it.

“It’s okay.” The man says, his voice faint now, almost barely there. “I’ll be just fine Soon.” His words are stilted and Jungsu notes that the mans’ Korean is very old fashioned, strange. And then the man is gone. Jungsu watches him go still and the life go out of his eyes.

“No no no no no.” Jungsu mutters and he pounds on the man’s chest. Hits hard like it’s going to make more of a difference.

Seconds pass, maybe minutes, maybe hours. Jungsu just sits there until he feels Sungmin pulling at him.

“Jungsu, Jungsu come on.”

Jungsu doesn’t respond.

“Jungsu, Teukie hyung, come on!”

He feels Sungmin start to try to pull him up and away, he starts to fight then, he doesn’t want to go.

“Jungsu, he’s gone. You can’t do anything for him now. Get up.” Sungmin shouts, and then he slaps Jungsu on the back of the head. “The other one went after them on his own, we have to call the police. Jungsu get up.”

“We can’t leave him”

“You can’t help him now.”

Reluctantly, very reluctantly, Jungsu lets himself be pulled away and together he and Sungmin run. Though where they can run to Jungsu doesn’t know. Above them there is a flash of lightning, it burns through the sky and crackles over the telegraph lines. Jungsu ducks, it’s an instinctual fear, he’s never liked lightning. He looks up, the sky is clear, there is no sign of an approaching storm.

It takes them a while to find help and dawn has broken by the time they trudge back to the alley with the police in tow. There is nothing left at the scene save for a trail of blood and a forgotten sword. Jungsu stares open mouthed at the empty alley, at the blood covered spot where the strange young man had died not an hour before. The police start to cordon off the area and an officer comes over to talk to them, but Jungsu doesn’t hear a single question he’s asked.

 

||

 

When he wakes up, Heechul feels fuzzy and wrong. It takes him a few blurred minutes to orientate himself. Where is he? How did he get here? Somewhere, somewhere distant he can hear chanting and he wonders if this time he might actually be dead. Then he wonders, if he’s dead, why is there chanting? Has he taken a wrong turn on the way to hell and landed in some lame purgatory where people will now pray for his immortal (ha) soul?

That’s just stupid.

He hears movement from somewhere and he decides that it’s time to open his eyes.

The room is dark, lit only by honest to god lanterns, the shadows cast by the flames dance ominously. Heechul shudders. There are no windows and Heechul thinks he must be underground. The surface under him is hard yet slightly squishy, the mattress is thin, threadbare, useless. Heechul sits up, blinks in the dim light, looks around. Kangin is lying on a bed a few feet away, his skin grey, he’s not breathing.

“How is he?” A voice from the doorway startles him

Siwon. Siwon is standing in the doorway, the brown monks robes he wears do nothing to disguise the firm body beneath. Heechul feels heat flare in his groin, he has to damp it down, ignore it. He hates that he can’t even look at his old friend, his fucking teacher, without his libido kicking in. He turns his face away.

At least now he knows where he is. Siwon. Chanting. Monks. Monastery. Holy ground. Safe.

He might know where he is, but the how of getting here still alludes him. He doesn’t remember anything after returning to the alley way after getting one of the men he was chasing. He took a head, he rode the lightning and now he has not _quite_ the hangover from hell, but close to it.

“How is he?” Siwon asks again and Heechul realizes he’s gone a few minutes without giving an answer. Siwon ducks his head as he enters the room, even after all this time Heechul still has no idea why he does that, it’s not like he’s that tall. Siwon sets a bundle of what looks like clothes down on the rickety dresser and it’s only then that Heechul realizes he’s still wearing his clothes from last night. He’s still covered in Kangin’s blood.

“I’ve only just woken up,” Heechul says. “So I don’t know for sure, but it looks like he’s still dead.”

Siwon frowns, he’s worried.

“It’s passed midday, it’s been hours since you brought him here, what’s taking so long?”

“Old age.” Heechul says and he swallows a chuckle. “It takes longer to get back up again. How long does it take you to come back now?”

Siwon smiles, it’s an annoying, knowing, patronising smile.

“I haven’t been idiotic enough to get myself killed in a while.”

“Well, good for you.” Heechul says and he doesn’t even try to keep the resentment out of his voice. He’s being a petulant child and he knows this and he doesn’t care. Siwon just sighs and ignores his outburst and it’s probably just as well. There is a bowl of water on the dresser next to the clothes, a wash cloth too. The water is bound to be freezing but right now Heechul will take whatever he can get. He empties his pockets, placing his phone and wallet on the bed, then he gingerly peels of the blood stained clothes, tossing them into a rumpled heap in the corner. He laughs when he sees that Siwon has turned his back to preserve some modesty. Though whether he is preserving Heechul’s modesty or his own Heechul isn’t sure.

He washes and changes into the fresh clothes. They are plain and inexpensive but Heechul thinks they are a big improvement on the robes he had to wear last time. Though last time he was here he was able to come through the front door and stay in the guest quarters rather than the underground dungeon. He thinks being banished down here might have something to do with him dragging a dead body with him. Heechul still doesn’t actually remember coming here though.

He finishes dressing and proceeds to root though Kangin’s pockets, careful not to touch his friend’s cold, dead skin. He finds Kangin’s phone and goes to pick up his own.

“Lunch will be served soon.” Siwon says.

Heechul sneers. “A round of porridge and water followed by extensive meditation? No thanks, I’ll pass. I’m going out.”

“Out where?”

Heechul’s sneer morphs into a feral grin. “Hunting.”

“Heechul, what if the Immortals you ran into last night come back?”

Heechul rolls his eyes under Siwon’s disapproving gaze, feeling every inch the disobedient school boy. It’s a feeling he hasn’t experienced in a while. He can’t say that he missed it.

“That’s what I’m counting on.” Heechul smiles. “I got one of them, the other two are already dead. They just don’t’ know it yet.” Heechul walks over to Siwon, presses Kangin’s phone into his hand. “This,” Heechul says, his voice and words exaggeratedly slow. “Is called a cell phone.”

“I know that,” Siwon says, irritated he snatches the device. “We don’t completely shun technology here.”

“No, just fun.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Look,” Heechul’s voice turns kind, quiet. “You asked us to come back, asked me to drag dumb ass over there back from whatever pit he’d crawled into…”

“And look what happened.”

“Oh, he’ll be all right in a while. You asked us to come back to do what we do so that you don’t have to. Now don’t go getting all squeamish when we actually go and do it.”

Siwon just nods, his expression pained and Heechul knows that this whole thing has to be killing him. Figuratively.

“Call me when his royal laziness decides to rejoin the living.”

Siwon just nods again and Heechul leaves. He can still hear the monks chanting. It really is a calming sound, but he’s damned if he’ll ever admit that to Siwon.

But then, he’s damned anyway isn’t he.

*

Heechul goes back to his hotel. His idea is to retrace his steps from last night, see if that throws up any clues to the whereabouts of the men that got away from him. The ones that killed Kangin. Bastards will pay.

Last night. Their plane got in late. They checked into their hotel rooms late. They made their way to Siwon’s temple late. On the way there…

Heechul re-walks the route they had taken. He shivers in the unseasonable cold and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his borrowed jeans. He should have changed while he was at his hotel, but then there’s a chance he’ll get messy again and he’d hate to ruin another set of his clothes. There is hardly anyone on the street to see him looking less than fashionable anyway. Time is slipping towards late afternoon and yet there are no people around. A gloom hangs heavy in the air, the city is tense. Heechul can feel the tension, it’s like a living, breathing thing, Heechul thinks he can almost reach out and touch it. This is the Gathering, that gathering storm. This is the effect it has on its location. Heechul hopes that Seoul will still be standing when it’s over.

Heechul remembers that they were half way to the temple when they felt the tell tale pull of another Immortal. Kangin has told him before that the feeling is a buzzing in his head, but to Heechul it’s like a song. A beautiful, flowing siren call, it's different for each different Immortal, each song that plays in his head. He’s always been slightly more sensitive to it than other Immortals. When he heard the song he knew there were three of them, and underneath their melody he heard another soft thrum, a quiet heart beat of a rhythm. Not a fourth Immortal, but something close. Something that sounded like potential.

They tracked, they fought, Kangin died, Heechul chased.

Heechul passes the Alley way. It’s still roped off with police tape. Kangin’s blood remains but his sword is gone. Likely now it’s in some evidence locker along with Kangin’s finger prints. Kangin is going to kill him when he wakes up. Really, really kill him.

It’s about half a mile passed the alley that Heechul feels it. A soft pulse of lingering electricity, it dances over his skin, sets his hair on end. He stops walking, looks down. The ground underneath him is cracked, littered with scorch marks and Heechul remembers the quickening. Remembers the lightning, remembers the pain. He remembers falling to his knees, the essence of the Immortal he beheaded—the Immortal’s final death—scorching through him until there is nothing left of him save for the burn marks on cracked ground and a new voice inside Heechul’s head. He remembers staggering back to the Alley and lifting Kangin’s body like he weighed no more than a feather. Remembers the mile long walk to the temple. He remembers now, but he really wishes he didn’t.

 

…End Chapter One.


	3. Chapter Two: A mysterious stranger walks into a bar…there is no punch line here either.

Kangin wakes with a sore head and Siwon looming over him. Kangin blinks groggily, tries to sit up, fails.

“About time.” Siwon says stiffly, retreating back to far end of the room, turning round to stand with his back against the wall, his arms folded.

“How long?” Kangin asks, his voice his horse, his throat dry like desert sand.

“Have you been out? Heechul brought you here a little after four this morning. It’s a quarter passed five in the afternoon now.”

“Holy shit.” Kangin breathes, he rubs his eyes and tries to sit up again. This time his attempt is successful. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, leans forward, rests his head between his knees.

“How are you feeling?” Siwon asks and there is a hint of guilt mingled with the concern in his voice. Kangin feels a small twinge of satisfaction at this.

Kangin opens his mouth to return a snide answer, something about death and feeling like it but decides he doesn’t have the energy. Instead he mumbles, “Not great.”

Siwon comes forward, kneels beside him, starts to rub Kangin’s back in soothing circles, which Kangin thinks is kind of silly, it’s not like he’s going to throw up. Wait, on second thought…

“you’ve not been playing the game recently.” Siwon says, it’s half a statement half a question.

Kangin shakes his head. He can’t deny it, the fact that it apparently took his body over ten hours to regenerate itself spoke volumes.

“I’ve been avoiding it a little.” Kangin says. “But, it’s not like I’ve been hiding on holy ground.” The words are up and out of his mouth before he even realizes he’s saying them and then it was his turn to feel guilty. He stops talking, looks up at Siwon, but doesn’t apologize. Siwon doesn’t say anything, just accepts the comment with a stoic shrug.

There is silence for a few minutes, Siwon still rubbing Kangin’s back.

“Why did you come back?” Siwon eventually asks.

“Because you asked Heechul to ask me, to come get me in fact.” It’s the truth, Kangin can’t deny this either, wouldn’t.

“Would you have come if I had asked you directly?”

“It might have been easier on Chullie if you had.”

“He would still insist on coming to escort you, just to make sure you came. Would you have come?”

“I know, and yes.”

“Why?”

Kangin shrugs off Siwon’s touch, stands and starts to pace the room trying to work the stiffness out of his legs.

“It’s been a long time, old friend.” Siwon says, his voice serious almost wistful.

“I know.” Kangin says and he doesn’t apologize for this either.

Siwon stands and walks towards the door, Kangin tracks the movement. And it’s only when Siwon is in the doorway that Kangin notices that Heechul’s sword is propped up by the door.

“Where is he?” Kangin asks and Siwon’s expression turns dark.

“He went out.”

“Looking for…” Kangin doesn’t finish his question but Siwon nods anyway. Kangin curses under his breath.

“He left that for you.” Siwon says, nodding at the weapon. Kangin curses again. Louder. Kangin doesn’t ask where his own sword is, he thinks he might already know.

An Immortal’s sword is often their most treasured possession, a tool they become so familiar with that it’s almost like an extension of themselves. Back in the day Immortal’s would fight with whatever blades they wanted, scythes, broad swords, sickles. Anything sharp enough to cut off a head was fair game. These days, with the dawn of air travel and with that the dawn of airport security, Immortals had to be very careful what weapons they used and travelled with. Your sword or whatever you chose to use was often your best and only friend, and every time Kangin has to explain this to a baby Immortal he dies a little inside because it was such a fucking cliché…the truth, but still a cliché.

Heechul’s sword is a Hwando, it’s an ornate affair that Heechul swears once belonged to a member of King Munjong’s court. Most Immortals favour historical blades, they are easier to get through customs by passing them off as museum items or replicas. Kangin’s sword—like a lot of Immortal’s—is (or was) a Katana, specially made for him by a master sword maker in Osaka. He is not going to be pleased when Kangin has to go back for another one.

Back in his hotel room, Kangin has a specially made sheath that fits over the blade of the sword and once latched into place the sword looks just like a replica, blunt of blade and relatively harmless. It even has ’made in China’ stamped onto it. Kangin added that detail himself, he’s very proud of it. Dammit, he misses his sword already.

“If I have Heechul’s sword what does he have?”

“He says he has something else.”

Siwon doesn’t elaborate on what else Heechul might have, probably doesn’t know, probably didn’t want to ask. Heechul can be…inventive.

“Youngwoon?” Siwon starts, stops, shakes his head, starts again. “Kangin…” Siwon stops again, his voice falters like he can’t get a grip on the question he wants to ask.

“I’ll make sure he stays safe.” Kangin says. “I kind of like Heechul’s head where it is too.”

“You too. Don’t go getting killed again.”

“It was only for a little while.”

“Not even temporarily. Don’t do it again.”

Kangin nods, picks up Heechul’s sword, tucks it into the folds of his long black coat. He leaves.

 

*

 

The temple itself is deserted, the Monks—Buddhists—would be at mediation now, in the great hall or in their private chambers. Kangin easily navigates his way through the maze of corridors and halls, he’s been there a few times before he left Korea. The place hasn’t changed even one little bit, except the monks he knew from back then will have long since moved on to their next lives.

The city of Seoul, however is another story. Kangin gets well and truly lost. Heechul’s directions—when he eventually calls Heechul—are no help at all. This isn’t the same city he left behind, it’s some strange new beast and Kangin gets caught up in the back streets. These back alleys, these cobbled pathways leading to run down shacks and held-together homes away from the new modern heart of the city, these remind him of the industrious settlement he used to know. But it seems that in his absence the city exploded. Progress and life pushed through the confines of war and politics to become this new world. Kangin feels a small rush of regret that he wasn’t around to witness it. The only actual perk of living forever is watching history happen, also then he might know his way around. It would help if he knew what district he was in.

“Legible sign posts.” He sighs as he looks over a faded and crumpled sign. “Has no one ever heard of them?”

He is sure that Siwon’s Temple and the hotel are only within a few miles of each other. Heechul chose the location of their hotel carefully. Gatherings occur in largely populated areas, big cities where an influx of strangers wouldn’t even be a blip on the radar. But still, they happen in concentrated areas, on the outskirts, in back alleys, in run down warehouse districts, away from mortal eyes. Though sometimes Kangin thinks that Immortals might just be the worst kept secret ever.

Siwon’s Temple has the misfortune of being located in the eye of the storm. This is the reason he asked for help. The pull, the temptation of the Gathering is hard to resist when you are miles from it’s source, when it’s right on top of you it’s almost impossible. And Siwon wants so very much to resist. Kangin owes him this at least.

The buzz starts off slow and quiet, the sound dancing on the periphery of his senses, Kangin tenses, his hand instinctively going for the sword he carries. The buzzing sounds unusual, wrong. It should be one continuous, irritating note. But this, this has a soft, stuttering ring to it, like a record skipping a beat. It’s strange and yet awfully familiar.

“Kibum?” Kangin whispers.

Kangin’s radius for detecting other Immortals is limited, a half mile. Maybe a little more. Just enough so no one sneaks up on him. He can’t differentiate between Immortals like Heechul can, to him it’s all the same long buzz. Except…except.

This sounds so wrong, it feels so wrong. Kangin doesn’t know anyone else it could be.

Then it’s gone. Kangin stopped walking when he heard the noise so it must be that the strange Immortal has moved out of range. Kangin waits a few minutes. Nothing. Whoever it was—Kibum?—is gone now. Kangin shudders. He starts walking again but still has no idea where he is actually going. He thinks that he should find a place to use as a home base and have Heechul come to him. Kangin thinks that a bar might be nice. Now all he has to do is find one.

 

*

 

Dusk is creeping in and a chilled wind kicks up. Kangin doesn’t know exactly what time it is now but he knows it’s not that late. Something heavy hangs in the air, something dark. It’s called ‘the game’ but it’s never any fun. Gathering’s—all ready steeped in violence—brings out the worst in people, in Immortals and the people and places around them.

It’s all fun and games until someone loses their head.

Kangin finds himself thinking about last night and those men indulging in a bit of mortal baiting and potential hunting. Kangin thinks about those two boys. They were lucky that Kangin and Heechul came along, lucky that they sensed those Immortals. Lucky that Heechul was there at all, with the sounds of four Immortals ringing in his head Kangin didn’t register the Potential’s presence. Heechul noticed him. Kangin thinks about the mortal boy…man really, older than Kangin in appearance but Kangin hates to think about the actual age difference between them. Still the boy—man, whatever—felt good in his arms, it was like he something clicked into place when he looked into wide, frightened eyes. Such soft skin.

It’s been years since Kangin has been with a man, especially with one so pretty.

Kangin will be the first to admit that he gets a kick out of playing the hero. He likes to swoop in, save the day and the damsel in distress. Often this action leads to amazing sex, something Kangin also gets a big kick out of and who knew what direction last night would have taken if he hadn’t gone and died.

Dammit.

He keeps walking. There is no one around. He imagines that life carries on as usual in the main hub of the city, the shopping centres, tourist areas. Places where life is electric, life will carry on albeit it with a sense of foreboding. But here in the less populated areas people are compelled to stay in their homes, they are never sure why though. Kangin thinks it’s better this way.

He finds a bar tucked away in a back street, next to a herbal remedy shop and a boarded up old convenience store. The walls are plastered in worn out flyers and graffiti, the Bar’s once bright neon sign is now a bleached out red and partially broken with some letters left unlit. The sign reads ‘Le teu ‘s”. It looks run down and dubious but there are lights in the windows and people moving around inside and half crumbled hole in the walls are kind of Kangin‘s favourite places. As Kangin pushes open the door his phone rings.

“You are useless.” Heechul says by way of greeting.

“You can’t give directions for shit.” Kangin answers back. He hears Heechul laugh, a soft, low chuckle.

“Where are you?” Heechul asks.

“I don’t actually know, just going into a bar. I’ll ask someone inside the address and then you can come here.”

“You think that’s a good idea?” Heechul asks and Kangin can hear the disapproval in his voice, can almost see the dark look in his friends eyes. “The bar part?”

“I won’t drink anything.”

Heechul harrumphs. “Sure, I bet”

There is a soft cough from in front of him and Kangin looks to see a boy, late teen, 20 mortal years at most, staring at him expectantly. He’s slight of frame with a bright but slightly strained smile, he’s holding a note pad and pen ready to take an order.

“Hi.” The boy says. “Welcome to Leeteuk’s.” He’s wearing a name tag, Kangin tries to read it but the Hangul is unfamiliar. The boy makes a small bow and smiles ever brighter. “Please come in, sit where you like.”

The bar is empty except for the boy and the bartender, a stout young man, Kangin thinks he might be in his early 20’s. Kangin walks further into the bar.

“Ryeowookie.” Someone calls from the far end or the bar, there is a door leading down to the cellar and someone coming up the stairs. “Have you seen…” The voice trails off, there is a crash, bottles falling to the ground, an intake of breath. Kangin looks up into wide, frightened eyes, familiar frightened eyes. He’s wearing glasses now, they sharpen his features a little but seem to make him look more fragile at the same time. “My god.” The boy breathes.

“Jungsu Hyung.” The waiter—Ryeowook?—asks. “What’s wrong.”

“You’re him.” Jungsu says, his voice soft, shocked. “The guy from last night. You died. You‘re dead. How…?”

“Well,” Kangin says. “Well shit.”

“What’s going on?” Heechul says and for a moment Kangin has forgotten that he’s still on the phone with him. “Youngwoon?”

Kangin sighs. He feels it then, hears it. That faint buzz, weaker than the noise of a full Immortal. This is like the snow on a broken TV channel. Kangin looks round, the second boy from last night now stands at the bar with the stout bartender and another taller boy with almost white blonde hair. If he’d been more aware, paid more attention, with no other Immortals around he might have heard it sooner.

“Youngwoon?” Heechul asks again. “Are you okay?”

“Chullie-ah.” Kangin says, he doesn’t take his eyes away from the potential. “You better get here quick, I’ll text you the address when I have it. I think we have some explaining to do.” It’s best if Heechul comes, despite his brash bravado. Kangin doesn’t have a good track record with conversations like this.

“Youngwoon.” The boy—Jungsu—says. His voice sounds closer. The boy moves silently, he’s behind Kangin now.

“Don’t call me that.” Kangin says and his voice comes out little harsher than he meant it to. He tries to soften his tone. “My name is Kangin.”

 

…End chapter Two.


	4. Chapter Three: Answers and questions….or something that looks like it.

The Gathering is a swirl of colour. It’s reds and golds and purples, like a never ending sunset. Kibum wonders if he reaches out to touch it would it be solid? Would it burn him? He wonders why people can’t see it like he can. Wonders if people know that the city sits on the edge of disaster. Kibum can’t wait to see the world go up in flames, it’ll be pretty, his own personal firework show.

Lightening fizzes across the sky, in sparks, in forks, in sheets, in flashes, in fits and starts and Kibum sits and he waits for his time. The school roof top he’s chosen for the fight gives him a spectacular view of the electrical storm threatening to consume the city. Kibum wants to revel in that storm.

It’s heading towards getting very late and the last of the little mortal children that attend this brick and mortar hell hole scampered off home an hour ago. There may be some lone janitor or security guard around. But it’s their bad luck if they come to investigate any strange lights where there should be darkness.

Kibum sits and he waits.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

To Kibum, the sound of another Immortal is like a drum beat and now that technicolour rhythm starts to kick up in his head. He stands up, stretches, reaches for his sword. He’s facing the roof top door when the other Immortal comes through. Kibum smiles.

“You’re early.” Kibum says in English. The Immortal—an American—sneers.

“You’re earlier.”

“Last one in first one out.” Kibum says, his voice light and cheerful. The American seems slightly unnerved by it.

“What does that even mean?” The American asks like he doesn’t care, but he does care, Kibum can tell.

The American’s accent is California bored with a slight 60’s lilt, his hair is bleached blonde and straggly. Kibum guesses his Immortal age to be around 50 ish. Not very old. This could be baby’s first gathering, shame it’ll be the last.

“It means I am going to kill you now.” Kibum says and he smile bright and blinding. The American recoils slightly, Kibum doesn’t know why people react like that. Kibum thinks it’s a little rude. The American regains his composure. He starts to laugh, long and loud like Kibum has made a big joke. Kibum starts to laugh along with him or more like at him.

“You’re funny, little man.”

Kibum shrugs, he can’t refute this, surfer dude is huge. All bulk and muscle and almost a full foot taller than Kibum is.

“What’s your name?” Kibum asks and he’s all wide eyed innocence—look at me, I’m harmless.

“What’s it to ya?”

“Just curious, my name is Kibum.”

It might just be Kibum’s imagination but he thinks that the American stands up a little straighter, puffs out his chest.

“Phoenix.” The American says and Kibum fights very, very hard to keep a straight face.

“Phoenix.” Kibum repeats the name slowly, carefully, his voice grave like this is some very serious matter.

“Yes, Phoenix.” Phoenix says. “And now that introductions have been made lets get this party done and over with, I have a date later.”

Yes, Kibum knew, could imagine what kind of ‘date’ Phoenix has planned. Kibum’s been following this imbecile around all day, watched him, tracked him. Kid here was too young, dumb and full of himself to notice. Didn’t know Kibum was there until Kibum made himself known and issued a challenge.

Challenge was accepted and now here they were.

Kibum thinks this reported ‘date’ would be much like the fun Phoenix was having this afternoon with that young girl. Kibum hadn’t known a mortal could bleed so much. Kibum thinks he will enjoy taking Phoenix’s head.

Kibum nods, raises his sword, gives a little salute, charges forward. Phoenix meets him head on, his sword held firm in both hands, their blades clang and clash together. Phoenix’s fighting style is all force and no subtlety—he relies heavily on his brute strength—and Kibum would have to agree that this would be a good strategy if he were fighting another baby Immortal. Kibum is agile, light and quick on his feet and he easily dodges and parries his opponents heavy handed blows. Phoenix obviously thinks he has this in the bag his smirk is cocky and his defences are down. The fight is barely five minutes old when Phoenix leaves his left flank open for attack and Kibum moves in bringing his sword up and across. He feels his blade slice through Phoenix’s neck like it was made of plasticine. Phoenix’s expression registers shock and surprise for the barest hint of a second and then his head rolls off and away before coming to a stop a few feet away from the edge of the roof. Phoenix’s body falls to the concrete a second later.

Kibum drops to his hands and knees, letting go of his sword he grits his teeth and braces himself. He waits one second…two seconds…three seconds. He closes his eyes.

The lightening slams into his back, into him, it fills him, becomes him, it feels like acid as it courses through his veins. The pain is intense and instantaneous, Kibum fights to catch his breath. He feels his heart stop and then start again then stop and then start. His heartbeat stutters along in the wake of the Quickening, regaining its momentum only once the wave of pain has passed. It feels like it lasts forever but was really maybe only a minute. Kibum lays there panting, unaware of when he actually face planted on the ground. He lies there still for a full ten minutes, the echoing screams of the late—but far from lamented—Phoenix ringing in his ears.

Kibum tastes blood, realizes he’s bitten his lip. The taste is slightly off, sharp, coppery and yet oddly sweet. Phoenix, Kibum thinks, was probably hopped up on something. Something to give him an extra edge, a little leg up for the coming fight. Not that it did him any good. Kibum giggles and curls up into himself foetal style, his giggles turn into a full blown giggle fit. He giggles until he starts to cry and he wonders if it’s a good idea to go to sleep right here then he decides that, no, he should get up. Just as soon as he’s able.

 

||

 

The first thing Heechul does when he gets to the bar is latch the door behind him and turns the sign on the door from open to closed. Then he issues orders to have the lights dimmed and the shutters pulled down. Orders that aren’t immediately followed until he starts snapping his fingers and demanding these things be done. He thinks he deserves metaphorical brownie points for at least asking nicely first. Even if asking nicely didn’t get him anywhere.

And now here they are with most of the occupants of the bar sitting around one of the larger tables in the middle of the room.

Heechul doesn’t like having this much of an audience. He doesn’t like the way the bartender—Shindong someone said his name was—accepted the story Heechul had to tell and then scuttled off to the bar to polish glasses. Heechul doesn’t like the way he’s just standing there trying to look nonchalant. Heechul doesn’t like the way Jungsu—the bar owner and seemingly professional damsel in distress—is looking at Kangin. Looking at him like he’s some kind of apparition or god like figure, he’s all doe-eyed wonder, ‘oh Kangin you’re my hero!’. Heechul has seen that look a thousand times. Every so often, Jungsu will reach out with a delicate hand as if to touch Kangin’s arm, like he wants to make sure Kangin is really there. But he never actually makes contact, always pulling his hand back like he thinks touching might be a bad idea.

Heechul really, really doesn’t like the way Kangin is pretending not to notice what Jungsu is doing, while sitting there looking a little smug and far too pleased with himself.

Heechul kicks Kangin under the table. Hard. For no other reason than he wants to…plus Kangin sort of deserves it.

“So, let me get this straight.” The blonde kid—Kyuhyun—says. His expression is tight, his voice incredulous, his whole demeanour radiates scepticism. Heechul can’t really blame him, this is one tall tale to swallow. “You two,” he gestures to Heechul and Kangin. “Are immortal.” Kangin nods sagely, Heechul thinks he hears Jungsu whimper lightly, but he could have imagined it. “You can’t die.” He continues. “No, wait, you can. But only by some special way that you don’t feel comfortable telling us yet.”

“At all.” Heechul intones. “You guys don’t need to know. Well, you might.” Heechul stabs a finger at Sungmin, the pre-Immortal. Sungmin just nods, doesn’t say anything. He hasn’t said anything so far this evening, just sits there quiet and deathly pale. Heechul doesn’t blame him either.

“Right.” Kyuhyun says, annoyed and disbelieving. “And you guys have to duke it out with a bunch of other Immortals Battle Royale style until there is only one of you left and that one left standing gets to rule the world. That’s right, that’s what you’re saying?”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Heechul says with a sly smile. “It sounds kind of silly.”

“You are all fucking insane.”

“Kyuhyun!” Jungsu says loudly. “Don’t talk to them like that.”

Heechul thinks that the kid is perfectly justified in calling them insane. Thinks Jungsu and—especially—Sungmin are the crazy ones for just sitting there and taking the news, well, sitting down.

“But, Hyung.” Kyuhyun says, his voice almost a whine as he pleads for someone to see sense. “You can’t..you…this is insane.”

“You weren’t there, Kyuhunnie.” Jungsu says, his voice calm, patient. Heechul wants to punch him, maybe then he’d react, or blink, or stop staring at Kangin.

“But, Hyung.” Kyuhyun repeats. “Last night must have been awful, you were in shock. He couldn’t have.” Kyuhyun’s voice trails off as he looks at Kangin who’s sitting there all alive and breathing. “He couldn’t have.”

“He died, Kyu.” Sungmin whispers and it’s the first time Heechul has heard the boy speak. Even now his words are barely audible but they are enough to get Kyuhyun’s attention. “He died. I saw him…he died.”

Heechul kicks Kangin under the table again just because he feels like it.

“This is insane.” Kyuhyun says again but this time his words aren’t directed at anyone.

The only other person to have any sort of outward reaction this situation is the little one, whose name Heechul was told, but then promptly forgot. He can’t seem to keep still. After hearing what Heechul had to say he started darting around, straightening what was already perfectly aligned, cleaning surfaces that were already spotless. Then he vanished off into the kitchen muttering something about food. And then there he was at Heechul’s elbow with a tray laden with various dishes. The mouth watering aromas reminded Heechul that he hadn’t had anything to eat since the miscellaneous slop he was served on the plane and that was over 24 hours ago.

Wow, time really does fly when you’re in incredibly awkward situations.

“Hey, uh,” Heechul starts to say to the boy.

“Ryeowook.” Ryeowook supplies helpfully.

“Ryeowook, could you get me a knife? Or any kind of sharp object. Anything will do.”

“Heechul!” Kangin says, his voice dark, warning. Heechul just flips him off.

Ryeowook places the last dish on the table and darts away again returning almost immediately with a small carving knife which he offers to Heechul. He bows quickly and then backs away as if afraid to stay too close to the crazy man who thinks he’ll live forever and now has a knife.

Smart kid.

“Now,” Heechul says and there is a gleeful lilt to his voice, he does so love this part. “Watch very closely I am only going to do this once and what will happen will happen very fast.”

“Heechul, this isn’t necessary.” Kangin says. Heechul just flips him off again.

“Youngwoon, it’s always necessary.”

Heechul raises his arm, giving everyone who’s paying attention a clear view of the pale skin of his forearm. He lifts the knife and presses the tip to his wrist.

“Oh no, don’t” Ryeowook cries out, clamping a hand over his mouth he scoots back and moves around so he’s standing behind Jungsu’s chair, hiding.

Heechul drags the knife along the underside of his arm from wrist to elbow. The cut is deep and gruesome and bloody but Heechul barely even feels the sting of it. Jungsu makes a small noise in the back of his throat and this time when he reaches for Kangin’s arm he makes contact, he clutches at Kangin’s sleeve like it’s some kind of lifeline. Heechul looks around at his wide-eyed audience. Already sparks are crackling across the length of the wound, healing. In seconds the cut is gone leaving nothing but a red smear behind.

“You couldn’t have waited until after we’d eaten to do that?” Kangin says into the heavy silence.

“Where would be the fun in that?” Heechul wipes the blood away with a napkin.

“Will I…” Sungmin croaks, he’s starting to look a little green. “Will I be able to do that?”

“No, not yet.” Kangin says. He throws Heechul a sour look but Heechul ignores him. “You’re not fully Immortal yet. You’ll still take time to heal. This kind of regeneration doesn’t happen until after your first death.”

“My first?…Oh, right.”

Sungmin now looks like the full reality of his situation is starting to hit him. Heechul almost wishes he could feel some sympathy towards him but really Heechul thinks the boy is lucky. There are very few of them that get any kind of warning. At least—for Sungmin—waking up after the first death need not be traumatic, at least he’ll know who he is and what he is. Heechul wishes he’d been given that chance. Heechul wonders about the boys family. Does he have one? Does he have people he calls parents? Does he know they aren’t his own flesh and blood? Sometimes Heechul thinks that the worst part of being immortal is not knowing where you come from.

“Those men last night,” Jungsu asks hesitantly, like he doesn’t really want to know the answer. “What were they going to do?”

“Kill you.” Kangin says, calm, matter of fact. The knuckles of Jungsu’s hand turn white as he grips Kangin’s arm. Even Kangin flinches slightly at the sudden violence of the touch.

“Cowards.” Heechul spits out the word, he bangs the table, plates and bowls clink together. Heechul takes a deep breath and continues. “This game has rules. Those men broke two last night. One, they involved a mortal.” Heechul points at Jungsu. “And two, there were three of them ganging up on you.” He points at Sungmin. “Fights are one on one, not that picking on a potential can be called a fight. Those men, one of them would have killed you, likely by slitting your throat. Then they’d wait for you to wake up. The first death is the quickest to recover from, five minutes at most. Then after you had awoken they would cut off your head.”

Jungsu whimpers again. Sungmin gulps. Kyuhyun sits in stunned silence. Ryeowook runs back into the kitchen. Kangin kicks Heechul under the table. Hard. It hurts.

There is more to tell. There is a lot more that this potential and these mortals, now that they’re involved, need to know. But everyone looks close to having had enough, Heechul has certainly had enough of talking. He wants to back to his hotel. He wants a bath. He wants to change clothes. He wants to kill something really, really badly.

Sungmin stands up, he staggers a little as he steps away from the table.

“I’m just going to…” he says pointing weakly at the back rooms and the sign for the men’s room.

“Are you going to be ok?” Jungsu calls after him and Heechul thinks that’s a really stupid question.

“I’ll go make sure he is.” Kyuhyun says getting up to go. He has to almost run to catch up with Sungmin.

I think that’s enough for tonight.” Kangin says and Heechul heaves a sigh of relief. “I don’t wish to burden you further.” Kangin says this to Jungsu but Heechul assumes it’s meant for him too. “Is there anyone else who works here?” Kangin asks Jungsu. “Is this all your staff?”

“Uh,” Jungsu stammers, a little surprised at the question. “No, there’s Hyukjae and Donghae, they work here, they’re out of town. Donghae took Hyukjae home to meet his mother. First boyfriend, you know and…” Jungsu’s voice falters, trails off. “And you don’t care about that. They’re not here.”

“OK, good.” Kangin says. “Go call them and see if you can get them to stay away a while longer.”

Jungsu nods dumbly, stands up shakily, moves off to the back rooms. Heechul watches Kangin watching him go.

“No and stop it.” Heechul says the second Jungsu is out of sight.

“To what and why?”

“No, I’m not signing up for babysitting duty and stop looking at him like you’re a heartbeat away from tearing his clothes off.”

“But I…”

“Oh you might call it comforting the poor distressed mortal, but the only one getting any comfort out of that union would be ‘little Kangin’ and he doesn’t exactly make the best decisions.”

“Heechul…”

“No and stop it…wait.” Heechul rises to his feet, drifts over to the window. He hears it clearly now, that disjointed melody.

“Heechul, who is it?”

Heechul knows Kangin can hear them too now, he just can’t tell who they are.

“They’re here.” Heechul whistles soft and low.

“The guys from last night?”

“Tweedledum and Tweedledumber. I’ve already kill one of them.”

Kangin moves to stand next to him, neither of them makes to open the shutter. They don’t need to in order to know two men—Immortals—wait outside.

“I couldn’t get hold of them. Donghae’s mother said they both left already, I…what’s the matter?” Jungsu says coming back into the bar.

“Lock the doors behind us.” Kangin says as he reaches for the sword Heechul lent him. “When Sungmin feels better get him to go down into the cellar, that might mask his sound a little.”

“His what? What’s going on?”

“Do you trust me?” Kangin asks, he grasps Jungsu’s shoulders, looks him in the eye. Heechul thinks that everyone is just full of stupid questions today.

“I want to.” Jungsu says and Heechul rolls his eyes.

“Then trust me.” Kangin says.

“Congratulations, Jungsu.” Heechul says brightly. “Your life has just become a bad action movie. Now do as he says and we’ll be back in an hour…or so.”

Heechul digs into his pockets and pulls out one of his very favourite things. Two handles tethered together with wire. He very carefully doesn’t touch the wire part.

“Razor wire?” Kangin says warily. Heechul just smirks.

“Come on, Youngwoon. It’s time to play.”

 

||

 

Just under an hour later Kangin finds Heechul waiting for him. He’s standing at the end of the street leading to Leeteuk’s, Jungsu’s bar. In his left hand Heechul holds a sword. A Katana.

“Hey.” Heechul says as he sees Kangin approaching. “Want to swap? I think this is more your weapon than mine.” Heechul holds up the Katana. Kangin nods and hands Heechul back his Hwando.

This new Katana is weighted slightly differently to his old—and dearly missed—blade. But it’s not so different that he won’t get used to it quickly. He gives it a few experimental swings. Yes, this will stand him in good stead until he can make a trip to Japan.

“How do you feel?” Heechul asks. A straightforward question but Kangin doesn’t know what answer to give. He feels alive but sore, amazing but exhausted. His every nerve endings tingle and sing in the wake of the storm they have just weathered.

“That good, huh?” Heechul answers for him. Kangin can only nod. “It’s been a long time since you last played, I was afraid there for a minute that you wouldn’t be able to take that guy.”

“Little fucker.” Kangin smirks. “I could have taken that guy with one arm tied behind my back, it might have made it a fair fight then.”

“Braggart.”

“Prissy bitch.”

Kangin turns and starts to make his way back to the bar and Jungsu. Something is calling him, calling him home. Heechul grabs his arm.

“Youngwoon, wait.” Heechul says, his voice is deadly serious and Kangin thinks he isn’t going to like what Heechul is going to say. “Do you think this is a good idea? Getting them all more involved than they already are. You’ve been the big damn hero, the mortals there are safe now. Just convince the potential to leave town until the Gathering is over and job done.”

“None of them will be safe until it’s over.”

“You can’t protect the whole damn city.”

“I know.”

“And what about Kibum?”

Kangin flinches when Heechul says the name. He feels that familiar churning in his gut, that helpless anger. He wants to be belligerent, wants to say ’what about him?’, knows that’s stupid.

“You can’t play bodyguard and hunt him down at the same time. You can’t have it both ways, Youngwoon. In fact,” Heechul is on a roll now, Kangin thinks that it might be best just to hold tight and ride it out. “Just being near this guy, and it is this guy isn’t it? Christ you’re a sucker for a pretty face. Just being near him will put him in more danger. What if Kibum comes looking for you? Do you want history to repeat itself?”

Kangin doesn’t say anything, there is nothing he can say.

“I swear,” Heechul continues. “Between you and Kibum I can’t decide who is the most bat shit insane.”

Kangin grins at that. “Well, I did teach him everything he knows.”

Heechul sighs, resigned. “If this all blows up in your face don’t come running to me. And if you drag me down with you I will take your head myself.”

“I love you too, Chullie-ah.”

“Fuck you.”

“Why don’t you go see Siwon, see what he has to say about this.”

“Oh, I already know what he’ll say. You save the world one good deed at a time. God’s work is done by helping your fellow man, mortals, whatever…”

“Go see Siwon and then go back to your hotel Two Quickenings in 24 hours has to be fucking with your head. Get some rest.”

“What are you going to do..oh no wait,” Heechul hold up a hand not waiting for Kangin to answer. “You’re staying here, of course you are. Look, if you want to get laid that badly get a fucking prostitute.”

Kangin just ignores him, he starts to walk towards the bar.

“If your little crush gets me killed,” Heechul shouts after him. “I’ll never forgive you.”

*

Kangin finds the door to the bar locked, just as he wanted. All his senses are extended and he can just about hear the tell tale buzz that represents the potential Immortal residing inside the bar. It’s faint now, only noticeable if you’re really listening for it. He knocks and is let in by a boy who wasn’t here earlier. This new boy has dusky hair and a puppy-like smile.

“Hi,” he says, blinking up at Kangin. “I’m Donghae.”

“You’re back!” Jungsu says coming though from the kitchen. The relief in his voice is palpable and Kangin feels something in his chest tighten when he sees Jungsu’s welcoming smile.

Kangin learns that Donghae arrived not long after Heechul and Kangin left. Hyukjae went straight back to his apartment, he has an early dance class tomorrow, well, later today. Donghae came back to the bar where he lives.

“Because I was worried about Teukie Hyung.”

They would have been back earlier but they had to walk from the train station, buses have stopped running and taxis were thin on the ground.

“It’s creepy.” Donghae says. “It’s like the whole district has turned into a ghost town.”

Kangin doesn’t have to bring up the subject of staying over, Jungsu offers. Apologizing that the only space available is a sofa. Kangin doesn’t mind, the make shift bed that Jungsu creates for him is more than comfortable.

“Kangin?” Jungsu starts and Kangin realizes that it’s the first time Jungsu has used his name. Kangin looks up, Jungsu seems to be struggling with something, a question he wants to ask but doesn’t think he should. “Why does Heechul call you Youngwoon?” He finally blurts out.

Kangin sighs, that’s not something he really wants to talk about.

“It’s a long story.” He says eventually. “I’ll tell you some other time.” He pauses and then decides to turn the question back on the asker. “That kid, Donghae and Ryeowook, why do they call you Teukie?”

Jungsu smiles and Kangin swears he feels his heart skip a beat.

“It’s not such a long story.” Jungsu says. “But still, I’ll tell you some other time. Goodnight, Kangin.”

“Goodnight, Jungsu.”

 

…End Chapter Three.


	5. Chapter Four: Two more mysterious strangers walk into a bar…Ouch, that must have hurt.

Jungsu wakes with the feeling of having had the strangest dream. And a hard on. Neither sensation is an unusual morning occurrence, and the idea that they might be connected isn‘t either, but this time it feels different. Jungsu lies still for a few minutes, trying to sort through the thoughts floating through his head. He doesn’t remember exactly what he was dreaming about but he has vague impressions of strong arms and a warm tongue. Touching, tasting. He remembers the salt of sweat on skin, the feel of teeth clashing together in desperate need. He lies there until the pressure in his groin becomes too much and he has to find relief and find it now.

He hopes that the hour is still early enough for there to be no one else awake. It’s a meagre light that filters through the curtained windows, almost like it’s close to dawn but not quite there yet. Jungsu doesn’t think it’s an accurate reading of the time though. Doesn’t know if it’s just before dawn or it’s a while after and this gathering storm Heechul and Kangin talked about is stealing daylight. The clock on his night stand reads 8:27 pm. It’s stopped. Jungsu isn’t sure, but he thinks that might be the time Kangin walked into the bar last night.

He listens carefully, hears only muffled sighs and snores. The house is silent, still. He makes a break for the bathroom.

His skin, it feels hot, tight, like it’s not his own. He hasn’t felt like this since he was in his teens. He has that need, that need to get off quickly, now now now. He starts the shower running, strips out of the faded sweatpants he wore to bed, waits for the water to warm a little before stepping in.

When he touches himself he doesn’t want to think about Kangin, but he can’t help it. He thinks about the way it felt when Kangin held him the other night, the look in Kangin’s eyes, the way it might feel if Kangin pushed him down and…

Jungsu comes. Hard. When he whispers Kangin’s name it almost sounds like a prayer.

*

He tries to keep quiet as he walks back through the house, but his legs feel shaky in the wake of his orgasm. He should have stayed in the bathroom longer, collected himself, but he didn’t want to stay there. He needed to go, needed to move, needed to not be reminded of what he had just done. He passes the main room, the room Kangin stayed in last night. The door is open and the bedding neatly folded, Kangin is nowhere is sight. Jungsu feels something in his stomach constrict, tighten and release. Maybe it was all just a dream. One long, fucked up dream. He passes Sungmin and Kyuhyun’s room, he thinks he hears someone crying softly, thinks maybe it isn’t a dream after all.

He finds Kangin in the bar. Some tables and chairs have been pushed to one side, creating a decent sized space in the middle of the room. Jungsu watches—slightly breathless—as Kangin moves. He’s holding his sword in both his hands, he swings it through the air, gently, slowly, more gracefully than Jungsu would have thought him capable of. Kangin moves like he’s dancing to music only he can hear, moves like he’s dancing to a haunting, lilting melody. Beautiful. Deadly. He stands watching for a while, he tries to keep perfectly still, tries to not even breathe, he doesn’t want to move. Doesn’t want to disturb this moment.

Eventually Kangin stops, puts down his sword, opens his eyes, looks at Jungsu.

“Morning.” Jungsu says. His voice comes out faint, a little horse. He coughs and tries again. “Morning.”

“Morning.” Kangin says with a smile. Kangin’s smile is warm and Jungsu feels something in his heart trip.

“Hungry?” Jungsu asks. He wonders if he is going to be able to talk in complete sentences any time soon.

“A little.”

“Breakfast?”

“please.”

The bars kitchen doubles up as the house kitchen. The rooms above the bar are basic, one main living area, one bathroom, and three bedrooms. It’s small, maybe too small to house five grown men, but Jungsu likes it. It’s cosy. It’s home. Jungsu heads to the kitchen, Kangin follows close behind. Too close, Jungsu can feel Kangin’s breath on his neck. He’s too close, far too close. Jungsu jumps when he feels Kangin’s hand on his shoulder. Startled he turns around and backs up till his back is against something solid, he thinks it might be the refrigerator but he’s not really thinking all that clearly right now.

“Sorry,” Kangin says, his voice is contrite but his expression shows he is anything but. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s all right..I” Jungsu’s train of thought falls away as Kangin moves in yet closer, this is a bad idea but Jungsu doesn’t make to move away.

“Hyung?” Donghae’s voice cuts through Jungsu’s frozen thoughts. Sleepy, a little disorientated, Donghae stands in the kitchen doorway, rubbing his eyes and looking younger than Jungsu had ever seen him.

“Hae?” Jungsu asks, worried. “Are you all right?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Donghae mumbles as he shuffles into the room. Kangin moves back and away and Jungsu doesn’t know if he is glad of that or not. “What time is it?”

“It’s early, you should go back to bed.”

“Mmmm not tired.” Donghae says as he jumps up onto one of the stools around the large preparation table, rests arms and head on the cool surface, within seconds he’s snoring softly. Jungsu smiles and looks up to see Kangin laughing.

“Cute kid.” Kangin says with a smile.

Jungsu nods. “He’ll wake up when he smells food cooking. Let’s see what we have in the cupboards.” Jungsu starts to root through the cabinets, careful not to look at Kangin again, very careful not to invite anything.

 

||

 

There are sliver cords floating in the sky. They twist and turn and gather in clumps, some coarse like fresh picked cotton, some smooth and flighty like silk. Kibum tries to reach out and grasp them but his hand goes right through, they don’t really exist, he is sure of that, but they look so real. It’s like the cords form a rough trail, like the world is a maze and the cords lead the way out. They extend as far as he can see, passed the crumbled down old buildings, it’s like they’re leading somewhere. The silver cords lead and Kibum follows.

The streets are quiet, deserted. Kibum doesn’t like the world this way, it’s too peaceful, too eerily calm. He needs disaster, he needs people, needs the chaos of life. He thinks that he might travel to the main part of the city, away from the Gathering. He thinks he might like to find himself a little toy to play with. His last kill—phoenix—is only a few hours old, still fresh in his head, Phoenix's voice whispers in his ears, Phoenix's desires pull at him. Kibum wants to play, Phoenix wants to play.

The trail of sliver doesn’t end at the dance studio Kibum comes to, it goes further, stretching through the streets, around lamp posts, wrapping around trees and bushes and balconies. But Kibum hears that skip beat in his head, a light tap tap tapping on his consciousness and he stops. There are lights on in the dance studio, someone inside, Kibum thinks it might be someone special.

Kibum walks through the halls of the studio, peaking in room after empty room. Like every other place in this district the dance studio is run down, faded. But still, even empty, the place teams with life. Posters are pasted over every available surface, garish colours, smiling faces, uplifting words. Kibum would think it inspiring if it wasn’t so headache inducing. In the last room he looks in, Kibum finds a boy. The boy is dancing but there is no music playing. He has his back to the door that Kibum walks through, he’s facing the large mirror mounted on the wall, Kibum can see that the boy has his eyes closed. He’s counting beats in his head, working through an un-finalised routine, Kibum thinks it’s fascinating to watch. The boy moves with a fluid grace even as he stops and starts while he figures out the next step. Kibum doesn’t think he made any kind of sound but he must have done because the boy stops, opens his eyes, sees Kibum in the mirror. The boys smiles. It’s a strange smile, bright, friendly, genuine, but slightly lopsided, all gums and teeth.

“Hi.” Kibum says and he waves, a jerky little movement.

“Hi,” the boy says. He turns round in order to look at Kibum in person instead of backwards in the mirror. “I’m sorry but we’re sort of closed.”

“Sort of closed? How could you be sort of closed?”

The boys’ smile falters and looks at the ground, shuffles his feet.

“No one showed.” He says quietly, looking and sounding like a kicked puppy. He looks up again and this time his smile looks a little forced. “It’s probably the weather, freaky isn’t it? All the lightening” The boy starts to pack up his things, a water bottle, CD’s, a hoodie, he stuffs these things into a battered canvas bag. “If I’d known this class was going to get blown off I would have stayed in bed too.”

“My name’s Kibum.” Kibum says cheerfully. “I can’t dance but I think I’d like to learn.”

The boy straightens up and smiles, and his heart is back in that smile. “Well, Kibum, I’d like to teach you. Why don’t you come back tomorrow, the weather might have calmed down by then and everyone else will come back to class. It’s more fun when there is lots of people.”

“Oh I think,” Kibum says. “I think this storm might be around for a while.”

“Let’s hope not.” The boy throws his bag over his shoulder and ambles passed Kibum and towards the door. “Oh,” the boy says, turning on his heel and holding out his hand. “I’m Hyukjae, it’s good to meet you.”

 

||

 

“He won’t leave.” Kangin says to Heechul when he arrives. Heechul is mad, he’s all pissed off intensity and Kangin knows that the conversation with Siwon did not go Heechul’s way. Heechul doesn’t say anything, just huffs and folds his arms, sulking like a child.

They sit in the main part of the bar, Jungsu and the rest are going about their usual routine even though Kyuhyun complains—loudly—that there will be no customers to prepare for so why bother? Jungsu hasn’t talked to him, or even looked at him, since that thing this morning. That thing that makes his dick hard whenever he even thinks about thinking about it. So close. It was a clumsy attempt on his part but Jungsu didn’t push him away.

The others bustle around them. Kangin weathers some dark looks from Kyuhyun, he’s is starting to like that kid, just a little. They all try not to pay attention to Kangin and Heechul’s conversation. Sungmin, especially, was staying clear, like if they pretended they weren’t there, if this wasn’t happening, then it would all go away.

Kangin had tried to broach the subject of leaving the city with Sungmin to Jungsu earlier and had got the expected response.

“He won’t leave.” Kangin says again.

“Siwon said he probably wouldn’t” Heechul says and he actually pouts.

“What’s the matter?” Kangin asks and he feels a hint of a grin slip into his voice. There is something more to Heechul’s mood than a kid who didn’t get his way.

Heechul sighs dramatically and runs a hand through his hair. “Siwon said that the best place for the ‘dear little Potential’ is on Holy Ground. With him.”

“Ahh.” Kangin says, and he gets it. Heechul is jealous, that’s so cute. Kangin smiles, he can’t help it.

“It’s not funny, Youngwoon.”

“Grow up, Chullie-ah, you’re not his student anymore.”

“He said he wouldn’t teach anyone else after me. He said he was done with that as well as the Game.”

“Did you traumatize him that badly?”

“Fuck you.”

“He has a right to change his mind, Chul. Did he say he would be the kid’s teacher?”

Heechul pouts again, flips his hair, slumps lower in his seat.

“No, he didn’t even mention it.”

“Then what are you getting so worked up about?"

Heechul shrugs, he turns his head away, looks out the window, mutters something that sounds like "Siwon will be his teacher. That's the kind of man he is." Kangin follows Heechul's gaze out the window. The world through the glass is almost dark, like a permanent twilight. The storm, the Gathering, it’s in full swing now.

“All we have to do is convince them.” Kangin says and Heechul makes a soft sort of mewl in the back of his throat. “That’s going to be a fun conversation.”

*

“I’ll go.” Sungmin says quietly. He’s nervous, fidgety, he’s no longer comfortable in his own skin. Kangin can relate, well, almost. It’s hard having your whole world turned upside down this way.

“Hyung, no!” Kyuhyun, Ryeowook and Donghae all say in perfect unison. Kangin would think it was funny if they all didn’t look so sad, if Jungsu didn’t look so sad. Heechul snickers and Kangin kicks him under the table. Hard. Heechul kicks him back. Harder.

“It’s because of me that Teukie Hyung was attacked, those men wanted me. You would all be safer if I wasn’t here.”

“Then leave the city all together.” Heechul says. He says it quietly but Kangin still hears him, Sungmin still hears him.

“I can’t.” Sungmin says and he looks so frightened, he doesn’t want to leave his home, the only one he’s known. Kangin wishes he could relate to that.

“You’ll be safe on Holy Ground, Siwon and the Monks will keep you safe. You might think that they are all about pacifism but trust me, the very last thing you will want to do is piss off a Buddhist Monk”

“Who is this Siwon?” Kyuhyun demands. “How can we know to trust him?”

“He’s and old friend,” Kangin says. “He’s a very old Immortal, one of the oldest I have ever met. I trust him with my life, he’s saved it more times than I deserve. You’ll be safe with him.”

“Why is he on Holy Ground? Why isn’t he out playing the Game like you guys?” Sungmin asks, he winces after the words are out. He doesn’t really want to know the answer.

“That’s his business.” Heechul says and his voice comes out quick and harsh. He stops, takes a deep breath. “He’ll tell you if he wants.”

“Don’t go, Hyung.” Ryeowook says softly and the look in his eyes is heartbreaking.

“I have to, Ryeowookie.” Sungmin mutters not looking the younger boy in the eye. “I should go pack.” He gets up to go and just like last night his legs are shaky, he stumbles. Ryeowook reaches out with a slender hand—to help? To stop him from going?—Kangin isn’t sure. The look Ryeowook gives Kangin as Sungmin walks away is fearsome, but still almost impossible to take seriously coming from such a cute kid.

Silence descends on the table. Deep, awkward.

“Right.” Jungsu says with a forced brightness. “Who wants lunch?”

“It’s not lunch time, Hyung.” Kyuhyun says but Jungsu doesn’t seem to hear him. “Right good. Ryeowookie, why don’t you come help.” They get up to go. Jungsu looks back at Kangin, stops. “What is it?”

Kangin stands up. Raises his hand for quiet. He’s heard them first, Heechul is too deep in his sulk to notice at first but after a few minutes, once the Immortals have gotten a little closer Heechul hears them too. Kangin reaches for his sword but Heechul doesn’t, he just starts to look a little panicked.

“Who is it Chullie-ah?” Kangin asks. He tries to listen harder, hear through the buzzing noise in his head, tries to differentiate between the two tones he’s hearing. He can tell that one of the Immortals approaching the bar is very old. Very, very old. The other is just a baby, so, so young. “Chullie-ah?” Kangin asks again. Heechul shakes his head and backs away.

“I have to get out of here.” Heechul says and the panicked look he has turns towards desperation.

“Heechul!” Kangin says. “Who is it?” Kangin feels worry tugging at his gut, he looks over at Jungsu, always at Jungsu. Jungsu’s expression is tight, scared. “Go into the back.” Kangin says to him.

“No, it’s okay.” Heechul says. “You guys stay here, I have to go. Is there a back door? I need a back door.”

Wordlessly Jungsu points out to the back rooms, Heechul scrambles to get over there, but he’s too late. The door to the bar opens with a crash and a tall, gangly, Chinese man stalks through.

“HEECHUL!” The man screeches. This is the old Immortal that Kangin sensed. The younger, baby, Immortal follows close behind him. God, the kid is young. Just a baby when he had his first death and that can’t have been more than a few years ago.

“Oh god!” Heechul says and he tries to make a break for it. The tall man closes the distance between them in just a few long strides and suddenly Heechul is enveloped in a very enthusiastic hug. Kangin stares and then he starts to laugh. Heechul says something that comes out as a muffled press of words as he is clutched to the man’s chest. The man ignores him and just hugs Heechul tighter. The kid, the baby Immortal comes to stand next to Kangin. He’s so young, too young to know that he shouldn’t let his guard down around any Immortal. The kid looks over to where his companion is trying to squeeze all the life out of Heechul and he shakes his head.

“Heechul!” The tall man says. “Oh Heechul, I am so sorry! It‘s going to be awful”

Kangin doesn’t know what is going to be so awful…well Heechul‘s reaction to being touched so in public is going to be awful but Kangin doesn’t think that’s what the stranger is referring too. He must have released his grip on Heechul slightly because Heechul is able to—eventually—extract himself.

“Seasonings.” Heechul says. “Let go of me.”

“Seasonings?” Kangin asks raising an eyebrow.

“Youngwoon,” Heechul says, his face is flushed, his hair is a mess. “This is Zhou Mi.”

Zhou Mi smiles and it’s an impossibly big smile, all teeth and dimples and guilelessness. Kangin wonders how this guy has managed to live as long has he has.

“Hi,” Zhou Mi says. His Korean is flawless with only the hint of an accent. “Henli.” He says pointing at the baby Immortal.

“Hen-RY” Henry says.

“Hen-li” Zhou Mi tries to say. The word doesn’t roll easily of his tongue.

“Close enough.” Henry heaves out a long suffering sigh, throws himself onto a bar stool. Zhou Mi blinks at him and that smile just gets wider. “This is what I have to put up with.” Henry says in English to no one in particular.

“American?” Donghae says and he sounds cheerful for the first time since this morning.

“Canadian.” Henry says flatly. Donghae just blinks at him. Henry just shakes his head and covers his face with his hand.

“Ahhhh” Ryeowook cries, jumping back and clutching at Jungsu’s sleeve.

“What is it, Ryeowookie?” Jungsu asks kindly, gently patting Ryeowook on the arm. Jungsu’s voice is patient, like dealing with a hysterical Ryeowook is a daily occurrence.

“There was a face, in the window. Someone was looking in.”

“Oh he’s ok.” Zhou Mi says, he slides onto the stool beside Henry and merrily taps a tune on the surface of the bar. “He’s our watcher, he’s been following us since we left Beijing.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” Heechul says and his sulk seems to be forgotten in favour of indignation. “Watcher’s are supposed to be unobtrusive, little fucking ninjas. What are they teaching them in Watchers school these days.”

“Zhou Mi likes to pretend he doesn’t know he’s there. He’s afraid of hurting the boy’s feelings.” Henry says.

Kangin thinks it’s a little weird to hear this child call anyone a boy.

“Well that’s stupid.” Heechul says. “How is he going to learn if you let him think he’s doing his job properly?”

“Chullie-ah, where are you going?”

“To teach Watcher boy a lesson.”

“Chullie-ah, wait.” But it’s too late, Heechul is off up and outside.

“What’s a Watcher?” Jungsu asks.

“We haven’t got that far yet, there is still a lot we have to tell you.” Kangin says and he feels regret at the wan look on Jungsu’s face.

“He’s gone.” Heechul says as he walks back inside. Heechul is pouting again, like he’s been deprived of a wonderful toy. “And I have no idea where he went.”

 

 

…End Chapter Four


	6. Chapter Five:  More answers, more questions and…hey is that a sword in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

It wasn’t easy explaining that Immortals didn’t actually have any other super powers, not really. That Donghae kid was particularly hard to dissuade. Turns out he’s an inquisitive little shit, once he got over his initial shock.

“But you can’t die, that’s a super power.”

“One that all Immortals have and it’s not infallible.” Heechul says. He pinches the bridge of his nose and scrunches up his eyes. He’s getting a stress headache, it’s a good job he doesn’t have to worry about stress wrinkles.

“You can tell the difference between Immortals, in your head.” Donghae makes a wild sort of flaily gesture and indicates to his head and it’s clear that he doesn’t—even now—understand.

“That’s also something all of us could do.” Heechul says and he looks pointedly at Kangin. “If we practice.”

Kangin just shrugs and drains the last of his drink. Heechul isn’t sure when Kangin started drinking or even what he’s drinking, but he’s not listing in his seat so he’s not drunk, yet.

Heechul looks over at Zhou Mi who’s sitting with his protégé, who is older than Heechul first thought, the kid is only 15 years into his immortality and was only 17 when he had his first death. But still, compared to Heechul and especially compared to Zhou Mi, Henry is still just a baby. Zhou Mi is making eyes at the tall, snarky blonde kid, Kyuhyun, and Kyuhyun doesn’t really seem all that adverse to the idea. And when Kangin isn’t studying the contents of his glass he’s making eyes at Jungsu.

Heechul thinks that this must be some kind of national adopt a mortal day.

Stupid Zhou Mi, he would have to show up now and go ahead and make an already complicated and awkward situation even more so.

Zhou Mi is a seer, or rather he sees an abstract series of events that could loosely be construed as seeing the future. Hence the ‘Immortals don’t actually have super powers’ conversation he was forced to have. Zhou Mi is something of an anomaly among Immortals, but Zhou Mi says it’s something he’s used to. Heechul has only gotten to know Zhou Mi recently, though measurements of time are kind of ambiguous when you can live forever, any when in the last century could be considered recent. But Zhou Mi did tell him once that he could see the future before his first death, it was something he was born with, in as much as Immortals are born, it’s more like they are found. Foundlings borne from the earth like the Gods and Goddesses found in mythology the world over. If they are lucky these foundlings, these lost babies will be adopted into mortal families where they can grow up unaware of the shit storm fate has in store for them in the future.

Zhou Mi doesn’t really like to talk about the origins of his gift. Heechul thinks that this might be because that gift contributed largely to his first death. And while all subsequent temporary deaths become good drinking and campfire stories, the first one, the first one is always the hardest. There are some Immortals who never get over their first deaths.

Zhou Mi has been mentoring Henry for just over 10 years. Apparently he picked the kid up when he was passing through Canada sometime in the late 90’s. They had been based in Beijing for a year or so and Zhou Mi was planning on staying there for a good while longer. With Henry being so young Zhou Mi had planned on them sitting out this gathering. That was until Zhou Mi had an abnormally clear vision of Heechul’ terrible and violent death. Real death. Final death. Off with his head.

If it was due to be at another Immortals’ hands in a challenged battle then Zhou Mi could not and would not interfere. But it’s not. So Zhou Mi is here to repay a debt he thinks is long owed but Heechul thinks has been paid back in full ten fold. Just seeing Zhou Mi smile is payment enough.

Heechul thinks Kangin might have started drinking after Zhou Mi finished his tale. Heechul thinks he too could do with a stiff drink right about now.

*

“So,” Kangin asks, his voice is half way to being slurred and Heechul notes with satisfaction that Jungsu gave him coffee instead of the Hite he asked for. “How did you meet Heechul?”

Kangin asks this of Zhou Mi and Zhou Mi, it seems, is only too happy to answer once he has managed to pull himself away from the conversation he was having with Kyuhyun. The kid came and sat with them all at the table which surprised Heechul more than a little. But then it’s really more like he came to sit with Zhou Mi. Zhou Mi always did have that way about him, when he smiles it’s like the sun is shining. People are drawn to him.

Heechul was.

“Siwon saved me from the undignified death.” Zhou Mi says with a bright smile, like the undignified death is something to joke about. “Heechul helped.”

Heechul mentally face palms. “Seasonings.” Heechul says. “That’s not quite how it happened.”

“It’s how I choose to remember it so shush you.”

They are all still waiting on Sungmin. The kid isn’t quite ready to go yet and Heechul doesn’t think it has anything to do with him not knowing what to pack.

“What happened was,” Heechul begins, they might have to wait a while for Sungmin so Heechul settles down to tell a story, he always did like a good story. “You challenged me to a fight.”

In some ways Heechul is glad of the events that followed. If their fight had proceeded them it’s likely Zhou Mi would have taken Heechul’s head. Zhou Mi was older, more experienced. Not that Heechul would ever admit this to anyone other than himself.

“It was a good fight too,” Heechul continues. “A real epic battle. We were in a large field a wild area just outside of Seoul. It was the middle of the night and we thought we were unobserved. There were no other Immortals in the area and no mortals were abroad.”

“Or so we thought.” Zhou Mi interjects dramatically, getting into the swing of the story.

“Or so we thought.” Heechul repeats. “Or so we thought, until we were both shot multiple times in the back, which by the way hurts like a bitch.”

“We died and the next thing we knew were waking up in what I assume were jail cells. We had fallen afoul of a band of Hunters.”

“Seasonings, you did not just say ‘fallen afoul’” Heechul laughs. It felt good to really laugh.

Zhou Mi hits him in the shoulder, a light, barely there punch. “Shut up, Chullie. I’m old, respect your elders.”

“What are Hunters?” Ryeowook asks suddenly appearing next to Heechul baring a tray laden with yet more food. Heechul tries not to scream out in shock at the kids’ stealthy appearance and he just about manages it. Heechul thinks that this kid would make a great watcher, he’s got that sneaking around thing down very well.

“Hunters are like Watchers, only evil.” Zhou Mi says it like it explains everything.

Kangin huffs out a sigh and looks at Heechul. “Do you mind if I field this one and then we can get back to talking about you.”

Heechul flips him off. “Go ahead asshole.”

“Fucking Princess.” Kangin retorts, he takes a deep breath. “Watchers.” Kangin begins. “Are an ancient secret society of mortals. They were founded in America then spread to Britain, the rest of Europe and across the West. It’s only in the last 100 years that previously closed countries like Korea and China have been inducted into the order.” Kangin stops talking. Heechul looks around at the group gathered around the table, they all look a little bored. Heechul’s a little bored now too, trust Kangin to bring the mood down with actual facts. Heechul thinks it might be fun to blow this all off and go outside to look for the Watcher following Zhou Mi and Henry. Fucking with Watcher’s heads is one of Heechul’s favourite things to do.

“Their job,” Kangin starts up again. Oh god, Heechul had hoped he was done. “Is to watch Immortals, record what we do, who we fight and when and how many of us are left.”

“We’re not actually supposed to know that they are there.” Zhou Mi says seriously. “But we all do, it’s not a very well kept secret.”

“Worst secret society ever.” Heechul cackles and Henry even cracks a smile.

“All they do is watch.” Kyuhyun says slowly like he doesn’t quite understand. Heechul thinks it’s pretty straight forward. Stupid, but straight forward.

“Yes,” Kangin says. “All they do is watch. Hunters on the other hand…”

“Hunt?” Kyuhyun supplies, incredulity and sarcasm drip from that one word.

“Yes,” Kangin says with a sigh. “Hunters are former Watchers who take issue with one of us one day ruling the world. They have dedicated themselves to hunting us down and killing us.”

“The undignified death.” Zhou Mi whispers.

“I don’t understand.” Jungsu says.

“When an Immortal fights and kills his opponent, the final death, then all that the losing Immortal is or was becomes a part of the winner. It’s a transfer of power we call a Quickening and it manifests as a lightening storm.” Kangin points out the window, points to the darkening sky. “Our essence will live on inside another Immortal so in a sense we will truly never die. But if our final death is at the hands of a mortal and there is no other Immortal around to take the quickening then we just end. That’s it.”

“Game over.” Zhou Mi breathes and Heechul knows that he is remembering when that was almost his fate. It was almost Heechul’s fate too. “It’s not a good way to go.”

There is silence for a few moments. “Chullie-ah.” Kangin says something. “We can go back to talking about you now.”

“Oh. Right, yes. Where were we?”

“We’d been shot to death.” Zhou Mi says, making a valiant effort to keep his voice light. “And the Hunters had us.”

“Yes. We woke up in the same cell but later they separated us because we couldn’t be close to each other when we died or else the quickening from the one who died first would kill any mortal present. Being a secret society they were big on ritual, all robes and masks and chanting. They had to strike the killing blow on the 13th hour when the moon was shining backwards or something stupid like that. Which was good for us because it gave Siwon time to come and save me.”

“Wait, how did Siwon know where you were? When was this?”

“Apparently Siwon had contacts within the Watchers who has spies in the Hunters and they told him what was going on. It took him a couple of days but he came for me. I insisted that we go back for Zhou Mi, I couldn’t just leave him there.” Heechul pauses, thinks. “This was back in 1938, I think.”

“Wait, Siwon ventured forth from the bat cave sometime during this century and no one told me?”

“It was to save me so he kind of had to and you weren’t exactly easy to get hold of back then, Youngwoon.” Heechul pauses again, looks around the table, grins a little sadistically. “Feel like sharing with the class your whereabouts?”

Kangin looks up, looks at Jungsu. “Not really.” He says

“Where was he?” Henry asks, genuinely curious, his Korean is faltering but serviceable.

“Jail.” Heechul says succinctly. “In Mexico, followed by a stint in the foreign legion.” Heechul laughs. “Do you want to share what you did to warrant it?”

Kangin sighs, stands up from the table, walks away. “No.” He says. “And if you say anything it will be the last thing you ever do, Chullie-ah.”

Heechul thinks that this time Kangin might actually mean it. He pouts, just a little.

“How long have you had a Watcher, Seasonings?”

Zhou Mi thinks about this for a while. “This one is new, he has only been watching us for a few weeks. But I have had others in the past. This is Henry’s first Watcher.”

“I’m so happy.” Henry dead pans.

“Youngwoon has a Watcher too.” Heechul says loudly enough so that Kangin can hear him from the other end of the room. “How is Jon-”

“Don’t say his name.” Kangin shouts back. “I managed to lose the little shit in Honolulu last year, if you say his name it’s like a homing beacon to him and he’ll find me again. So shut it, Chullie-ah.”

“I’m ready to go now.” Sungmin says and Heechul wonders just how long the kid has been standing there in the doorway. Wonders if he’s heard all that they have been saying. The kid is standing there holding his back pack in front of himself like a shield, scared, unsure.

“Would you like me to come with you, Minnie-ah?” Jungsu asks and Sungmin looks like he desperately wants to say yes, but he just shakes his head.

“No Hyung, I’ll be ok.”

“Let’s go then.” Kangin says and as he passes Jungsu on the way to the door he reaches out and gently squeezes Jungsu’s shoulder. He leans in close and whispers something in Jungsu’s ear. Jungsu seems to relax a little, not much, but a little.

As they leave Heechul swears he sees a flash of something, a brief glimpse of almost white hair.

“Mimi.” Heechul says, surveying the empty streets. “Do you always know when your Watcher is following you?”

Zhou Mi nods. “He does make it obvious.”

Heechul looks again at the empty street, nothing moves at all.

“Ever think he might be doing it on purpose?” Heechul asks as they walk on.

“Huh?”

“your Watcher, ever think he might let you know he is there so that you’ll let your guard down when you think he’s not around?” Zhou Mi jut blinks at him, Heechul smiles fondly. “No, Seasonings. Of course you wouldn’t. Just how is it you’ve managed to live this long?”

Heechul pauses for one last look behind him. Still, nothing stirs.

 

||

 

The kitchen is ready to take orders, the bar is open but still no one comes. Jungsu isn’t surprised, not really. Disheartened, yes, but not surprised. Before this, before this situation, whatever this situation was, business had been down. Not bad exactly, they were getting by, but it hadn’t been good. In this neighbourhood they were doing as well as could be expected.

But tonight there was no one, not even Shindong showed up for his shift and he never missed a chance to eat Ryeowook’s food. Jungsu didn’t really blame him, this whole thing is too weird and Shindong has nothing to lose by cutting and running.

“Hi.” Hyukjae says cheerfully, walking through the door as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Jungsu is a little taken aback, he’d momentarily forgotten that Hyukjae was due to work that night too. Jungsu knows he has more staff than he actually needs, but like Sungmin said to him once, he just can’t help picking up the strays. Jungsu knows that if he hadn’t given Hyukjae a job, albeit part time, and introduced him to his friend who runs the dance studio, then it’s likely that Hyukjae would be out on the streets. He had no one else, but at least here Hyukjae has something he can call a family.

“Hyukkie!” Donghae yells out happily and he runs, throws himself into Hyukjae’s arms. Hyukjae stumbles back a little in the wake of the force of a stampeding Donghae. “I am so happy to see you.”

“Me too, Hae.”

“I have had the weirdest day.” They both say in perfect unison. They look at each other and laugh and Jungsu feels something tug at his gut. Jealousy? Maybe. It’s been a long time since someone looked at him like that.

“You go first.” Donghae says and he casts a look over at Jungsu. “I think my day will take a while to go through.”

Oh god, Jungsu realizes that Hyukjae doesn’t know. About any of it. It feels like forever since Hyukjae was last here, Jungsu can’t believe all that’s happened since. A small part of Jungsu doesn’t want to tell Hyukjae at all, he just wants to have someone that doesn’t have to be burdened by this.

“The strangest guy came into the studio this morning.” Hyukjae says. He slides into a bar stool, Donghae pulls up another one and they sit close together, lean in close to each other. Hyukjae looks tired, they all do. “No one else showed up to class and I was just practicing by myself when this guy comes in. He seemed cool at first.” Hyukjae wrinkles his nose in distaste. “He said he was looking to join a class so I was telling him all about the different programmes we do and then…” His voice falters. “And then he started going on about silver threads that were floating in the air and that we were all connected. He said he and I were connected by a thread but he didn’t know why and that it was interesting. He said I was connected to this freaky weather.” Hyukjae gestures out the window to the now completely darkened sky, illuminated occasionally by brief flashes of lightening. “Then he said he would see me around and then he left. I swear, though, he followed me part of the way home.”

“That is so weird.” Donghae says as he gently starts to rub Hyukjae’s back. “How do you know he was following you?”

“I don’t know, I just had this weird feeling, like I was being watched.” Hyukjae shudders and then he shakes himself like he’s shaking off a bad memory. “I’m hungry.” He says and looks at Jungsu a little sheepishly.

“Jungsu smiles. “Go into the kitchen, Ryeowook is trying something new, taste it and tell him what you think of it. And then come back here…we have a lot to tell you.” Jungsu looks over at Donghae. Donghae doesn’t look happy anymore.

Hyukjae senses the tension. “Ok, Hyung.” He says softly. “Is everything ok?”

“Fine, Hyukkie-ah.” Jungsu says, gently patting Hyukjae’s arm. “Go eat.”

Hyukjae gets up and walks off and at first Donghae makes to get up and follow but then he decides to stay where he is. They both sit there in silence for a few minutes until the bell over the door tinkles, the door opens and someone walks in.

“Customer!” Donghae says a little too excitedly, he jumps up, starts rooting through his apron pocket for his order pad, goes to greet the customer. “Welcome to Leeteuk’s.” He says. “Please sit where you like.”

The customer smiles and his smile is dazzling. White, perfect and yet slightly off. Jungsu feels a jolt of unease as he watches the customer take a seat by the door. Donghae hovers over him and Jungsu cringes a little. He’s still working on getting Donghae to seat the customer and then move back until he’s asked for.

“Teukie Hyung!” Hyukjae says, coming back into the bar his mouth still crammed with food. “Wookie’s new dish is amazing, you have to put it on the menu it might…oh.” Hyukjae’s voice trails off as he sees the new person sitting at a table. “It’s you.”

“Hello Hyukjae.” The customer says with a smile. Jungsu notes that the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Uh.” Hyukjae stammers. “This is Kibum, he came to the studio today.”

“Yes,” Kibum says, his voice soft, almost dreamy. “We had such a nice conversation this morning that I just had to see you again. You’re very special Hyukjae, you could almost say that you were chosen.”

Jungsu feels something in his chest constrict. No no no no no no, he thinks. Not Hyukjae too.

“Were you following me?”

“Yes.” Kibum says simply. “I followed the threads most of the way. Do you see them yet, Hyukjae? Do you know?” Kibum casts his eyes around the room. “They’re everywhere, all of you.” He points at Jungsu, points to the back rooms where Kyuhyun and Ryeowook are. “All connected. Interesting. But yes, I followed you.” Kibum grins manically, looks at Donghae “Followed you home, like a puppy.”

“Donghae.” Jungsu says, fighting to keep the alarm out of his voice. “Why don’t you go give Ryeowookie a hand in the kitchen? I’m sure I can take care of Kibum-sshi’s order.”

“Donghae,” Kibum says slowly, rolling the name around his mouth. “How about you don’t.” In a move quicker than Jungsu can follow Kibum is up from his seat and he gets a hold of Donghae, one arm around his waist the other around his throat. “How about you stay right here.”

“DONGHAE!”

“Let him go!”

Hyukjae and Jungsu both shout at the same time. Donghae and Kibum are just about even in size but Kibum is faster and stronger. Donghae struggles in his grip.

“What’s the shouting about?” Kyuhyun says, coming in from the back rooms. “HEY!” He shouts when he sees Kibum and Donghae, he starts forward.

Kibum tightens his grip on Donghae’s neck. “Oh no you don’t, Stretch.” He says. “You stay there.”

Kyuhyun stills. Kibum cocks his head to one side as if listening to something. “Ahh,” he says, sounding almost disappointed. “I hear the pitter patter of Immortal feet. But be they friend or foe I do not know. Not ready for a fight.” Kibum nuzzles at Donghae’s neck. “Not ready for a fight right now. Can’t stop to chat.” Kibum lets go of Donghae’s waist, reaches into his pocket, pulls out a knife, holds it up for Donghae to see. “Shiny.” He whispers into Donghae’s ear.

Jungsu feels like he’s stopped breathing, the world starts to move in terrible slow motion. Oh no no no no, he think. No no no no.

“I will see you around, Hyukjae.” Kibum says and he throws the knife. It hits Hyukjae square in the chest. Blood blooms bright and red and spills over Hyukjae’s shirt. Hyukjae stumbles back, falls, hits the ground with a dull thud, doesn’t move again.

“Hyukjae!” Jungsu hears Donghae scream be he doesn’t see him, can’t see him. His vision dulls, blots out all light, blots out everything but the red of Hyukjae’s blood as it spreads over the floor.

Jungsu hears shouts, he hears some call his name. He’s not sure how long he stands there, hours maybe days, but he eventually feels arms around him. Strong arms, warm, safe and familiar. His vision clears, awareness returns. Kangin is holding him, Donghae and the stranger—Kibum—are gone.

“Jungsu, what happened?” Kangin asks and for a moment Jungsu can’t answer. He looks around wildly, clutches at Kangin’s arm. He sees Kyuhyun, Zhou Mi has his arms around him. He sees Ryeowook huddled in the corner by the bar. He sees Henry and Heechul holding up their swords, the look fierce, terrifying. No Donghae.

“Killed Hyuk.” Jungsu manages to sputter out. “Took Donghae.”

“Who. Jungsu, who did this?”

“I don’t know.” Jungsu’s voice is barely even a whisper.

“Another Immortal was here.” Heechul says. “He’s not quite out of range yet he…no, can’t be.” Heechul takes off running, Kangin makes to follow but Jungsu doesn’t want to let go.

“Chullie-ah, Wait!”

“Stay here, Youngwoon.” Heechul says forcefully and then he is gone.

Jungsu hears Zhou Mi call out “Henli! Wait!” Jungsu doesn’t look up to see where the young Immortal went. He looks down at Hyukjae and he feels like breaking down.

“No no no no.” Jungsu whimpers. “No.”

“Shhh.” Kangin whispers, he pulls Jungsu close, holds him tighter. “I’m sorry.” He says over and over. “I’m so sorry. I’m…you have got to be kidding me.”

Kangin pulls away. Jungsu follows Kangin’s gaze down to where Hyukjae lies still. Kangin reaches down, pulls the knife from Hyukjae’s chest.

Hyukjae opens his eyes, sits up, looks around, blinks slowly. He looks down at his shirt now completely stained red, he looks down at the pool of blood he’s lying in.

“What just happened?” He asks everyone and no one. “What’s going on?”

Lightening flashes across the sky, brilliant, bright and close. Too close.

“Oh no.” Kangin breathes. “Oh no.”

 

…end chapter five.


	7. Chapter Six: One Immortal said to the other Immortal…”OFF WITH HIS HEAD!”

Kibum has a weird sense of coming back to himself, like he’s been floating along in a dream world and now he’s come back to earth, come back to his body, come back to see what he’s been doing. The kid in his grasp is slippery, slippery like a fish. Kibum has vague thoughts of throwing him in the river, it would make for a quicker getaway. But the vague thoughts were just that. There was something about the boy, something about the way he smelled—the sweat, the tears—something about the way he was crying softly but trying not to let it show. Kibum wonders if the boy will bleed pretty. He thinks he just might. He needs to get out of here, get away. Those Immortals he sensed by the bar were now closing in on him, at first he thought there might have been four, he was sure that he heard four, but now there is only two and they are getting closer. Kibum fumbles in his left pocket, his hand closes around his second knife and he pulls it out, it’s a weapon but it’s not enough, he won’t hold up for long against two Immortals with a small blade and a hostage, that’s if the coming enemy cares about a mortal boy at all.

He wonders who the coming enemy actually is, wonders if he knows them, wonders if that will matter.

He runs, pulling the boy along with him and the boy doesn’t put up much of a fight, he should, but he doesn’t. Grief and shock have a tight hold over him but Kibum doesn’t care about that at all. He runs, but not in the direction he came from. Behind the bar—one street over—there is an industrial wasteland that runs parallel to the Han River, it’s the last remains of the construction site for the newly erected sluice. It’s all jagged edges and rough lines and it’s really the perfect place for a fight, if he were up for a fight right now. It’s not a fight he wants or needs it’s transport, and he sees it. Close to the River bank there is a car, from far away it looks half wrecked but as Kibum gets closer he sees that it’s still serviceable. The kid starts to fight now, when he sees where Kibum is taking him. At last self preservation seems to be kicking in and getting taken away in a car by a strange man is not conducive to continued health. Kibum quickly tires of the struggle and he shoves the kid head first into the door of the car, dazed the kid slumps to the ground and is quiet. The car doors are unlocked and when Kibum opens the drivers side he sees a mess of cables under the dashboard all cut and frayed. Joy riders have had their joy with this ride and then abandoned it to rust. Kibum wonders if it will still run. He hopes so, the Immortals chasing him have caught up now. Kibum hears them, it’s like a marching band in his head.

“KIBUM!” Someone calls out to him. Kibum stills, a smile spreads over his face. He opens the back door of the car, pushes the boy inside.

“Stay.” He says, jabbing a finger at the window, but the boy is still slightly out of it from the blow to his head. In the corner of his eye he sees a streak of red coming towards him, he turns around.

“Chullie-ah.” Kibum says and there is glee in his voice, pure and utter. “I hoped I might run into you. But I never really believed that you would come to play. I wondered why…” Kibum stops, looks off into the distance. “I wondered why I could see them so clearly, those connecting threads. Do you see them Chullie-ah? They dance in the light of the storm.”

“You’re sick, you need help.”

“Are you going to be the one to help me, Chullie-ah. I don’t think so.”

Kibum is comforted by the presence of his knife, the hilt feels hot in his hand, the knife wants to fly, Kibum could almost see the way it would look embedded in Heechul’s head. He can feel his hand start to shake. He’s nervous, he’s excited, the palms of his hands start to itch. “If you came to the party does that mean…? No, no he wouldn’t, wouldn’t come.”

“Kibum,” Heechul says, his voice firm, his expression fierce, Kibum isn’t intimidated. Heechul is accompanied by another Immortal, barely a child. “I challenge you.”

Kibum smirks, cocks his head, looks Heechul up and down. Heechul is holding his sword up and ready.

“I’m unarmed, Chullie-ah.” He says as he hides the hand with the knife behind his back.

“I don’t care.”

“Look at the big man.” Kibum says almost derisively. “Where did your conscience go, Chullie-ah? You’re getting unscrupulous in your old age.”

“Fuck you.”

Kibum moves sideways, away from the car, away from Heechul, towards the river. Heechul follows him step for step, they move slowly in a circle until Heechul’s back is to the River.

“It’s been a long time, Chullie-ah.”

“Not long enough, Bummie.”

They stand there staring at each other. Kibum is fascinated with Heechul’s hair, it’s so red, so bright. Kibum wants to reach out and touch it. He feels his hand start to snake out—reaching—he stops himself, pulls it back before Heechul decides to cut it off.

“Tell me, Chullie-ah,” Kibum says, his voice quiet, soft, inviting. “In all the time we have been apart… have you learned to swim?”

“What?” Heechul lowers his sword just a little, not a lot, just enough for Kibum to have a good enough target. Kibum lets his knife go, it flies straight and finds its home in Heechul’s gut. Heechul looks down, he’s surprised, shocked, disbelief flashes across his face, he wasn’t expecting it, he should have expected it, especially from Kibum. Stupid really, Kibum thinks, to run into a situation without thinking. Heechul is getting careless, getting old. And then Heechul falls and falls and falls. There is a muted splash as his body hits the water. Kibum smiles when he sees that Heechul has dropped his sword. It lies on the bank abandoned. Kibum picks it up, it feels heavy in his hand, alien almost. He doesn’t like to use another’s sword, never feels right. He swings it around, swipes at the air. It’s not his sword but it will do, yes, now he is ready, ready for a fight. Shame the new challenger is no challenge at all. The baby Immortal looks afraid, he’s shivering, his sword shakes in his grip.

“Run away now boy.” Kibum says softly. The boy shakes his head and holds his sword up. It’s an awkward gesture, fighting and this boy do not fit well together. “Ok,” Kibum says and even to himself he sounds a little sad. “Have it your way.” Kibum takes one step closer to the boy, another step and then a third. The boy slips into a fighting stance but it does him no good, he’s not ready for it when Kibum swings his sword and the blade slices through muscle, through bone, and the boys head falls to the ground.

A second before the Quickening hits him Kibum thinks he sees a flash of something running passed him. A mortal. A mortal runs and dives into the river.

“Foolish mortal.” Kibum says “Enjoy your…” The lightening hits him then and he can’t speak anymore.

 

||

 

Without thinking Kangin runs out of the bar, without thinking he runs into the path of the lightening storm. It’s almost run its course so it’s just an aftershock of a Quickening that slams into him, it’s not at its strongest but it has enough force to fell him. His knees hit the ground and out of the corner of his eye he sees Zhou mi has done the same thing, run without thinking out into the storm. Kangin feels the transfer of power from the now permanently dead Immortal, the presence is familiar, someone he’d barely known.

“Henli.” Zhou Mi whispers. “Oh, Henli.”

Kangin staggers to his feet and goes to Zhou Mi who just sits where he fell looking dazed, saddened.

“Zhou Mi, come on get up.”

Zhou Mi just shakes his head. Kangin grabs his arms and hauls him up.

“I’m sorry about the kid, but we have to go.”

Zhou Mi shakes of his touch and stands up a little straighter, his hand tightens around the hilt of his sword. Kangin is a little impressed that Zhou Mi managed to keep hold of it. Kangin dropped his, he picks it up and starts to run again, he doesn’t look to see if Zhou Mi follows.

He runs in the direction he thinks the Quickening originated, runs until he finds Heechul’s sword lying on the ground. He stops, looks down at the sword, looks around, sees a figure trying to run off. The figure—the man—staggers, stumbles, he’s not quite recovered from the Quickening. The man stops and turns, waivers a little. Kangin gets a good look at him, he feels his breath whoosh out of him, like he’s been punched in the gut.

“KIBUM!” He yells out.

Kangin is torn, torn between finding Heechul—who wouldn’t leave his sword without a damn good reason—and chasing down the man he came here to find. And kill.

He hesitates a second too long and Kibum is gone. Kangin blinks and shakes his head, it’s almost like Kibum was some kind of apparition the way he melted into the darkness.

There is a movement in his peripheral vision, inside the car Heechul’s sword was dropped beside. Kangin looks in and sees the kid, Donghae. He opens the car door, getting an electric shock as he does so. The kid was lucky, being in the car, the tyres grounded him during the lightening storm. Still, he fizzes with static electricity. Gently. Kangin helps him out of the car. The kid looks dazed, confused.

“Is he ok?” Zhou Mi asks.

“I don’t know.” Kangin says. Donghae staggers, Kangin catches him before he can fall. “Can you take him back to the bar? I have to find Heechul.” Zhou Mi nods and takes Donghae from Kangin, he has to support most of the boys’ weight. Kangin watches them go as they make their slow way back down the street.

Nothing moves in the darkness.

“HEECHUL!” Kangin calls. “Chullie-ah?”

Nothing.

Kangin walks to the river bank. The new sluice isn’t activated yet, the water around it is stagnant, not even a ripple disturbs the surface. Kangin peers into the murky gloom. Sees nothing.

“Chullie-ah.” Kangin says softly, sadly. There wasn’t enough time. There wasn’t enough time for two Quickenings. There wasn’t. There was barely enough time for one. Heechul’s presence wasn’t in the lightening storm. It wasn’t. Kangin takes one last look around. Still, nothing moves. Kangin sees Henry’s sword lying on the ground forgotten. He reaches down, picks it up. “Chullie-ah.” Kangin says again, softer, sadder. “Where are you?”

 

||

 

Jungsu is halfway to frantic. He sits down at the table where Ryeowook and Kyuhyun sit clinging to Hyukjae. The three of them locked together in an embrace, holding onto each other for dear life. Hyukjae still doesn’t really understand what’s happened, doesn’t understand what he’s become. He’s now dressed in a set of Kyuhyun’s sweats. The t-shirts hangs loose on him, the sweat pants are too long, he plucks at the shirt he wears, gingerly, like he expects the knife and the wound it made to still be there. Hyukjae’s blood still stains the floor. Jungsu stands up from the table. He sits down again. He stands up. He worries at a wad of paper napkins, throws the pieces away, starts to tear up another wad. He sits down at the table again.  
He jumps when the door bursts open and Zhou Mi staggers in half-carrying…

“Donghae.” Jungsu gasps, jumping up and rushing to the two men. “Oh god, Donghae. Is he ok? What happened?”

Donghae won’t look at him, he won’t lift his head from where it’s almost buried in Zhou Mi’s armpit. The half of Donghae’s face that Jungsu can see is tear streaked and dirty. Kyuhyun and Ryeowook get up from the table and crowd around him, the sudden fuss makes Donghae try to bury himself deeper into Zhou Mi’s arms. Jungsu stands back, he feels helpless, useless.

“Hae?” Hyukjae says softly. He comes over but he doesn’t come close, he stands there, awkward, hugging his chest. Donghae looks up then, he looks up and it’s like he has stars in his eyes.

“Hyukkie?” Donghae uncurls himself from where he was wrapped around Zhou Mi, he reaches out but then pulls his hand back, like he’s afraid that Hyukjae isn’t really there. “You’re alive?” Hyukjae steps closer, reaches out with his own hand, gently strokes Donghae’s arm. Donghae lunges at him then, grips him tight, his hands scrunching in Hyukjae’s shirt. Kyuhyun and Ryeowook join them, the four of them entwined together. Something inside Jungsu breaks a little, seeing them like this, seeing them torn up like this. His heart hurts, his head hurts.

The door opens again and Kangin comes in, he is holding three swords, the load is awkward and the blades clank together as he deposits them on a table. Jungsu looks at him expectantly, Kangin just shakes his head.

“The lightening?” Jungsu asks hesitantly.

“Henry.” Kangin says.

“Oh god.” Jungsu looks at Zhou Mi who slumps into a chair, his head in his hands. Gone was the gangly geniality and in its place is heartbreak. “And Heechul?”

“I don’t know. I have to go back out there and look for him, do you have a torch or something I could use. I think Kibum might have killed him, I have to find him before he wakes up, he’s vulnerable out there.”

“It’s too dark, you’ll never…wait…Kibum? You know him.” And it’s like something snaps, something finally breaks through the numb shock he’s been swimming through for the last few days and finally, finally anger struggles up to the surface. “The man who stalked Hyukjae came in here and terrorized my staff, no, my _family_. He wasn’t just some random Immortal looking for fun, you _know_ him! You…?”

“Jungsu,” Kangin says, trying to keep his voice soft and soothing. “Jungsu, calm down it’s not like that.” Kangin takes a step forward, holds his arms out, Jungsu steps back.

“Don’t tell me to calm down.” Jungsu spits. “Don’t you dare.” His voice is quiet, his rage is soft, dangerous.

Before Kangin can say anything, defend himself, the door opens again and two men stagger through. Or one man staggers through, one man, Chinese, white blonde hair, Jungsu has never seen him before. One man carrying dead weight. Heechul is dead, his eyes closed, his skin pale, his red hair plastered to his face. Both men are dripping wet and trailing dirty water on the floor.

“Chullie-ah.” Kangin says, rushing to help the stranger haul Heechul’s body onto a table.

“I’m sorry.” The stranger says in halting Korean. “He drowned.”

Kangin doesn’t say anything, just starts to carefully arrange Heechul’s body, fixes his clothes.

“My name is Han Geng.” The stranger says with a bow. He turns to Zhou Mi and starts talking in rapid fire Chinese. Zhou Mi just slumps lower in his seat.

“He says he is sorry about Henry.” Kangin says quietly to Jungsu. “He’s their watcher, but I don’t think he ever really expected having to watch one of them die.”

Zhou Mi starts to cry softly, it’s a terrible sound really and Kyuhyun breaks away from the little group hug and goes over to Zhou Mi, pats his shoulder. It’s a clumsy gesture but it’s enough to get Zhou Mi to look up and in a flash he has wrapped his arms around Kyuhyun’s waist and is sobbing, his face pressed into Kyuhyun’s stomach. Kyuhyun just stands there, he looks at Jungsu helplessly. Jungsu just shrugs.

 

||

 

Heechul sputters back to life an hour later, or so he’s told. He opens his eyes to see Kangin hovering over him, Kangin looks angry, worried, concerned, Heechul didn’t think Kangin was capable of feeling so many things at once.

“That bastard.” Heechul mutters as he tries to push himself up on his elbows. He feels pain in his chest—likely still raw from the stab wound—he has to lie back down again. Heechul hasn’t been killed in over a decade and he’s angry that it was Kibum, that little shit, that felled him this time.

God, dying hurt.

He waits a few minutes, takes a few deep breaths and then sits up again. This time there is no pain. Kangin still looms over him.

“Fuck off.” Heechul growls. “You’re worse than Siwon.” Kangin gives him the finger, but he does move back and Heechul feels like he can breathe freely again. Heechul drags himself off the table and into a chair, Jungsu hands him a cup off hot tea and Heechul finds he’s actually grateful. He’s not sure exactly what the tea is and it doesn’t really even taste good, but after one sip he feels better. “Thanks.” He says. Jungsu nods and moves away back to the other end of the bar and as far away from Kangin as possible. Heechul looks around, only Jungsu, Kangin, Zhou Mi and a blonde stranger are in the bar now.

“Where are the others.”

“I sent them upstairs,” Jungsu says, he throws Kangin a look that Heechul can’t quite read. “They needed to rest.”

From the way that Kangin won’t meet Jungsu’s eyes Heechul thinks he must have missed something big…or at least interesting.

“Who are you?” Heechul asks in Chinese, he swears the blonde stranger sits up a little straighter when Heechul looks at him.

“Han Geng.” Han Geng says, standing up and bowing.

“He pulled you out of the river.” Kangin says with a hint of a smirk.

“Zhou Mi’s watcher?” He asks it as a question but he already knows the answer so he doesn’t wait for a response. He turns back to Kangin. “It was Kibum.” Heechul says and he thinks he hears Jungsu give snort.

“I know.” Kangin says. “I saw him.”

Heechul wants to get up and hit Kangin over the head and scream at him “I TOLD YOU SO!” But getting up would take some effort and while the restorative tea that Jungsu gave him is helping it hasn’t completely helped yet. He waits a few more minutes, takes a few more deep breaths, finishes the tea. He feels suddenly jittery, like he can’t keep still. His knees start to shake. What was in that tea?

“I have to get out of here.” He mumbles and he tries to stand, falters.

“Heechul,” Kangin starts. “you’re in no shape to go anywhere, and with Kibum out there it’s best to stick together.”

“I can take care of myself, Youngwoon.” Heechul says and if his voice is slurred and slow he’s not going to admit it. “And you, I think you have some business to take care of.” Heechul looks over at Jungsu who just looks away.

Heechul leaves. Kangin protests but it’s slightly half hearted. Kangin is worried for him but it’s clear that he wants to be alone with Jungsu. Heechul felt the tension, he didn’t want to have to deal with it. Zhou Mi’s hotel is in the opposite direction so he parts ways with Heechul outside the bar. Heechul watches him go, Zhou Mi casts a forlorn figure as he walks off into the night. Heechul almost half hopes that Zhou Mi doesn’t run into Kibum. Zhou Mi might kill him before Heechul has a chance to.

Heechul is a little unsteady but still insists he’s fine. But the Watcher, Han Geng, insists on walking him back to his hotel. Heechul argues but Han Geng refuses to back down, Heechul is so surprised by this that he relents and doesn’t stop to think about just how bad of an idea this is until they are at his hotel and then at his room and then in his room.

 

||

 

Jungsu finds Kangin in the living area. Jungsu hasn’t quite calmed down yet, he’s angry and he’s hurt and he’s confused and he wants some real answers. He wants to know why this happened, who these people are and why his life—all their lives—have been turned upside down like this. He finds Kangin sitting among sheets and pillows from where he was clearly trying to make up a bed but just ended up making a nest. Jungsu smiles despite himself at the rueful look on Kangin’s face.

“We need to talk.” Kangin says. Jungsu just nods, sits down beside him, stands up again, starts pacing the room. “Would you sit?” Kangin’s voice is kind and not even a little condescending but Jungsu snaps back at him anyway.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Still, he sits down. But in an armchair, away from Kangin.

There is silence for a few minutes until Jungsu asks the questions he really wants to ask.

“Who is this Kibum? What does he want with us?”

Kangin’s story just about breaks his heart.

*

“Kibum was my student,” Kangin starts his story, he doesn’t look at Jungsu while he talks. “Like the way Henry was to Zhou Mi. I found him wandering the street, lost and confused, the way most of us are after we have our first deaths. He Didn’t know who or what he was when I found him, I took him in and taught him the game.” Kangin pauses, takes a deep breath. “He was a good person once.”

“What happened to him?”

Kangin explains to him, slowly, patiently but Jungsu still doesn’t understand, isn’t sure he wants to understand. It has to do with the power transfer, the Quickening. When an Immortal’s essence is transferred to another during the lightening storm their personality, all that they are, is transferred as well and when it’s over a part of the losing Immortal is retained inside the winner and facets of the losing’s personality may show in the winner. If you take too many heads too quickly, not leaving enough time to process each one, take time to recover, then you could go mad.

Kibum, it seemed, went mad.

“It was my fault.” Kangin says. “I failed him, I failed as a teacher. He was a good man once, he was always a good fighter and he started taking on Immortals who were…” Kangin hesitates, searching for the right word. “Unsavoury.” Kangin looks at his hands. “I tried to warn him of the dangers of taking on too many unstable essences in too short a time, but he wouldn’t listen. I should have made him listen.”

Jungsu wants to tell Kangin that it wasn’t his fault, but he doesn’t dare speak. Doesn’t want to distract Kangin from his story.

Kangin breathes in slowly, his hands are shaking. “I’m old.” He says and this time he looks up at Jungsu, looks him in the eyes. There are tears there, hidden still, waiting to be shed. “Maybe I’ve lived too long. I get lonely.” He stops, shakes himself. “That sounds so cliché but it’s true. And sometimes, sometimes I just want to be normal…I wanted to have a life.” Kangin stops again, collects himself. “The last time I saw Kibum, before tonight, was in 1898, just before I left Korea. Kibum was the reason I left.

“I had a wife. Her name was Yoonji, she was mortal. We fell in love, she didn’t know what I was and I never told her. Kibum had disappeared, his last Quickening had sent him off on a dangerous tangent and he ran away. I hadn’t seen him in months.” Kangin breaks down then and before he even realizes what he’s doing Jungsu is out of the armchair and over to Kangin, he puts his arms around him and holds on as Kangin cries. “He killed her.” Kangin says. “I wasn’t there when Kibum decided to come looking for me, but Yoonji was. He killed her. I was Youngwoon back then. That was the name I was given by the family who took me in as a child, it‘s the name I shed when I left Korea after Kibum murdered my wife.” Kangin stops talking, his voice cracks and he can’t talk anymore.

Jungsu just holds him tighter.

*

While Kangin goes to the bathroom Jungsu remakes Kangin’s bed properly. It’s done when Kangin gets back. Kangin’s eyes are red, puffy, bloodshot. He bows when he sees Jungsu standing by the sofa.

“I’m sorry.” Kangin says. “I didn’t mean to burden you. I didn’t want to burden anyone with any of this. I’m sorry. Heechul was right, I should have stayed away. I am the reason that Kibum came here, found you.”

“Sungmin, you say he’s a pre-Immortal?” Jungsu asks and Kangin nods. “And now Hyukjae, he’s Immortal too?” Kangin nods again. “I’ve lived with Sungmin for most of my life. My father adopted him, he was a street kid who would hang out by the dumpster.” Jungsu smiles. “My dad had a thing for picking up strays as well. Donghae and Kyuhyun were children of friends of the family, when they couldn’t take care of their kids anymore my Dad took them in. Ryeowook too, my Dad took him away from his family when we found out he was being abused. They’re my family. If Sungmin is a Pre-Immortal and Hyukjae was too then this Gathering, other Immortals would have found us anyway. Kibum might have found us anyway.” It sounds like a question but Jungsu doesn’t ask it as one. He knows the answer. Kangin just nods. “I think it might be worse for them, for all of us, if you didn’t find us in that alley. I’d be dead now if it wasn’t for you.”

Kangin doesn’t say anything, Jungsu looks up at him, looks to gage his reaction but Kangin’s expression is stubbornly blank, he looks like he’s trying to hold something in, hold something back. There is a beat of silence, the tension is palpable. Kangin kisses him. Their faces were barely inches apart and Kangin just took a breath and closed the distance. Kangin’s lips are warm, soft and at first Jungsu stiffens in surprise but then he slowly melts into the kiss. He opens his mouth and Kangin slips his tongue inside.

Jungsu jumps backwards, the back of his knees hit a chair and he goes down. Quickly he scrambles back up and runs to the door.

“I’m sorry.” Kangin says quickly, urgently. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

Jungsu stops, turns round, looks at Kangin’s stricken face. The door is open, Jungsu’s hand is on the handle. He closes the door and in a few quick strides he crosses the room again and the minute Kangin wraps his arms around him Jungsu feels like he’s come home.

 

…end chapter six.


	8. Interlude: The calm before the storm

When Kangin wakes it’s still barely even the middle of the night. The clock ticking away on the wall reads 11:45pm, the hands illuminated by the dim glow that seeps under the door. The light in the hallway is on but the living room is dark. Kangin wonders who turned out the light.

Kangin thinks that he might need to pee but he doesn’t want to get up, doesn’t want to move—doesn’t dare to even breathe—because Jungsu is right there pressed up against him. His breath on Kangin’s neck is warm and he smells so good, fresh, clean. It should be uncomfortable, so uncomfortable, two grown men lying together on a sofa that’s barely big enough for one, but Kangin thinks that there is nowhere else he would rather be.

He knows, though, that as much fun as this is for him, he can’t let Jungsu spend the night like this. The temperature dips as the hours creep on and soon this room will be very cold, he doesn’t want Jungsu to get sick. He allows himself a few more minutes, just a few, and then he gently shakes Jungsu awake.

“Whatzit?” Jungsu mumbles sleepily, he rubs at his eyes in a way that Kangin can only describe as adorable. Jungsu looks young, so much younger than his 25 years, so young and for one heart beat Kangin isn’t sure if he can do this again, go through this again. He’s bedded many people in his too long life, mortal and Immortal, but Jungsu has managed to bury himself deep into Kangin’s heart without even trying. Just like Yoonji did. Kangin thinks he might just give himself up to the Hunters if anything were to happen to Jungsu.

“Kangin?” Jungsu asks and Kangin realizes that he’s been quiet for a few minutes, he’s been staring. “Are you all right?”

Kangin shakes off his maudlin thoughts and pastes on a smile. “Everything is fine, but you can’t sleep here. You need to get to bed.” Kangin starts to stand up, to do this he has to climb over Jungsu. He stops when a certain part of himself comes into contact with Jungsu’s thigh. Kangin pulls back, tries to put as much space between himself and Jungsu as he can, which isn’t much given the tight confines of the sofa.

Jungsu nods and stands up, Kangin instantly misses his warmth. Kangin makes to stand up too, but then has to sit down again because Jungsu decided to peel off his shirt and at the sight of all that smooth—and surprisingly toned—skin, little Kangin thinks it’s time to pop up and say hello. He covers himself with his hands and he’s glad that it’s too dark for Jungsu to see the way his cheeks colour.

Jungsu holds out his hand, Kangin just stares at it.

“You can’t sleep here either.” Jungsu says and he rotates his head like he’s got a cramp in his neck and he’s trying to stretch it out. “I never realized how uncomfortable that couch is.” He briefly drops his arm only to hold it out again, he waves his hand insistently until Kangin takes it. “Come with me.” Jungsu pulls him up and Kangin is only too happy to follow.

Before Jungsu takes him to his bedroom he quickly checks on the other boys sleeping in the house. Something inside Kangin shifts uncomfortably when he looks upon Hyukjae and Donghae. They are jammed together in the same small, single bed. They’re holding each other close and it’s almost impossible to tell where one boy ends and the other starts. Kyuhyun and Ryeowook are in the next room, they sleep in separate beds but their hands reach out to each other over the gap. And then Kangin is in Jungsu’s bedroom and he’s nervous, nervous like he hasn’t been in over a century.

*

He waits, lets Jungsu make the first moves. For a minute or so they stand there awkwardly, Jungsu still shirtless, Kangin still erect and ready. Kangin thinks it might be too much to hope that Jungsu hasn’t noticed that part.

He has.

With shaking hands Jungsu reaches out and starts fumbling with Kangin’s belt, with the zipper of his jeans. He’s nervous, clumsy and Kangin thinks about trying to help but Jungsu kisses him then and all coherent thoughts fly from his mind.

He’s not sure just how or when they both get completely naked. It’s like all of a sudden there they were, pressed skin to skin, Kangin feels Jungsu’s erection pressing against his own. They’re still kissing and the kissing is nice but Kangin wants more, so, so, so, much more and he wants it now now now. Still, he makes himself wait, wait until Jungsu is ready. The thing of it is that Kangin isn’t expecting it—when Jungsu is ready for him—Kangin doesn’t expect it at all. In a flash Kangin finds himself lying on his back, he’s forcefully pushed down onto the bed, he lands with an ‘oomph’. Jungsu straddles him and Kangin is amazed that all this happened and their mouths didn’t break contact. The kisses are harder now, harsher, more insistent. Kangin cups Jungsu’s ass with both hands and squeezes eliciting a yelp from Jungsu. Kangin smiles wickedly and uses Jungsu’s momentary distraction to turn the tables on him. In a heart beat Kangin has Jungsu on _his_ back, arms pinned over his head. Jungsu is breathing heavy, they both are. Kangin grinds their hips together and Jungsu lets out a wanton little moan that almost makes Kangin come right then and there.

Kangin wanted to make this last, wanted to savour every moment, relish every sigh he could tease out of Jungsu’s mouth. But he wants this too much, needs this too much, the look in Jungsu’s eyes, the curve of Jungsu’s lips, the way their bodies fit together, all this has him feeling like the metaphorical virgin on prom night. Jungsu points him—breathlessly—to supplies in the night stand. Condoms, lube. Kangin wants to ask why Jungsu happens to have these things to hand. But that would require using words and words might just spoil the mood. He takes it slow, as slow as he can bear too. He’s gentle as he carefully stretches Jungsu out, one finger and then two and then three. He gets light headed when Jungsu starts making these _sounds_ , these erotic little whisper moans. All his blood goes rushing to his cock, threatening to cut off the supply to everywhere else and he can’t take it anymore.

“Kangin,” He hears Jungsu whisper. “Please.” Jungsu’s voice is strained, his body rigid with tension. “I need you.”

Jungsu is still tight when Kangin slips inside him, still Jungsu takes all of him in, right to the hilt and it feels so good. So good, so, so, so, good. So good that Kangin just can’t help himself. A couple of quick thrusts and Kangin is done and he sighs out his pleasure even as he’s disappointed that he didn’t pleasure his partner first. Gently, Kangin rolls Jungsu onto his back and massages him to orgasm with his hands, with his tongue, with his lips. Kangin likes it that Jungsu has to muffle his ecstasy with his hands least the boys in the next room hear.

After, after they lie curled together, Kangin with his front pressed to Jungsu’s back, arms wrapped around him, their fingers entwined together. After, they lie together and whisper sleepily into the dark. Kangin listens to Jungsu’s hopes, his fears. Kangin wants to gather all those fears and take them away, he wants to collect all of those hopes and make them come true.

“My father opened this bar.” Jungsu says. Kangin doesn’t say anything, just makes a small noise of encouragement for Jungsu to keep talking, he likes to listen to Jungsu talk. “He named it after me. Leeteuk was…is a nickname he gave to me. It means special.”

“You are very special.” Kangin says.

Jungsu laughs, the sound a low rumble. He reaches behind him and slaps Kangin’s thigh. It hurts…a little.

“Don’t patronize me.” Jungsu says but his voice holds no seriousness.

“Sorry.” Kangin says in meek, mock apology. He kissed the back of Jungsu’s neck. Jungsu shivers under the touch.

“Only Ryeowookie and the rest of them, my brothers though they are more like my sons now. They call me Leeteuk, or teukie.” Jungsu heaves out a sigh, sleep is fast closing in on him, on them both. “You can too, if you want.”

“Thank you.” Kangin says quietly, his lips still pressed to the back of Jungsu’s neck. Kangin feels himself slide into that half asleep, half awake dream state. But before sleep claims him completely he says, “call me Youngwoon.”

 

…end interlude.


	9. Interlude two: And the rest is silence.

Heechul isn’t one for dealing with things by getting drunk, that’s more Kangin’s shtick. But sometimes, sometimes things need to be dealt with using alcohol and Heechul thinks now is one of those times. The only problem is, the mini bottles in his mini bar aren’t enough to get the job done right and room service won’t send up alcohol after a certain time and it’s now long past a certain time. So Heechul is only slightly buzzed rather than drunkenly oblivious, which is what he really wants.

What he really wants—what he really needs—is to be able to sleep. This city, this Gathering place, it’s too noisy. When it’s all quiet around him, when he’s alone, he can hear all of them, all those Immortals. It’s like a 40 piece orchestra playing on a loop in his head, the melody amplified by the constant lightning storms. An incessant stream of noise, never ending, half deafening. He rubs at his temples.

“Are you ok?” Han Geng asks.

For a moment Heechul is confused, he’d forgotten that the mortal Watcher was still here with him, watching over him. Heechul isn’t even sure why he let the man stay with him. Maybe it was because the man has an almost calming presence, his voice is soft and soothing, even though Heechul can’t understand half of what he says. Or maybe it’s because it’s a novelty to be in the same room with someone—a stranger—who doesn’t make any moves to push him down, to claim him, to fuck him raw the way that others have wanted to. The desire is there—in Han Geng’s eyes—Heechul can see it, almost taste it. But there is a respect there too, an almost reverence and Heechul isn’t sure if it’s a reverence for him or for Immortals in general. Heechul thinks it might be for him, because isn’t everything about him in the end?

Just like Heechul can’t understand half of what Han Geng says, Heechul is sure that Han Geng can’t understand half of what Heechul says. But still, the Watcher seems content just to listen and the Whisky Heechul has consumed has loosened his tongue so Heechul is content just to talk. He talks about nothing for what feels like hours until he feels Han Geng’s hand on his shoulder, Han Geng’s lips on his neck and he’s not sure when they moved so close to each other. But when Han Geng kisses him it’s like the world stops and everything is quiet and all there is is here and now and the warm softness of Han Geng’s lips.

“I wasn’t watching them.” Han Geng says into Heechul’s mouth. The words are muffled and Heechul is surprised to find that he still understands them anyway. “These last few days, since I saw you. I haven’t been watching them…I’ve been watching you.”

Heechul pulls back, he understands, he thinks. He looks into Han Geng’s eyes, sees sadness, shock, guilt.

“Fucking me isn’t exactly going to ease your conscience.”

And it’s such stupid thing to say. Han Geng just blinks at him like he doesn’t understand. Heechul knows it isn’t like that, knows that even if Han Geng had been watching over the kid, there was nothing he could have done. Watchers aren’t supposed to interfere. The ones that did usually ended up dead. It was bad enough that this Watcher, this boy, ran into the path of a quickening and into a river just to fish Heechul out. Heechul would have ultimately been fine, wet, pissed off, but fine. Probably.

Han Geng looks at him, it’s a helpless look. Han Geng looks so young, Heechul feels so old.

“It’s, it’s not like that.” Han Geng says, his voice is soft, almost pleading.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I don’t want to be alone.” Han Geng says. “And I don’t think you want to be either.”

Heechul thinks he might be right.

*

It’s not slow and it’s not gentle. Han Geng tries to make it so, tries to take the time to explore all that Heechul has to offer. But Heechul isn’t in the mood for slow, when he decides he wants something then he wants it right then and right there. Despite all the centuries behind him he never has learned to be patient.

His kisses are fast and greedy and he writhes underneath Han Geng until he wises up and falls into Heechul’s rhythm. Heechul is gratified to find that Han Geng is more than capable of keeping up with him, and Han Geng is more than happy to let Heechul take the lead. They wrestle and tussle on the bed for a few minutes, testing each others’ strength. Han Geng is physically stronger, but it’s a strength that he holds in check for the most part. He lets Heechul push and pull at him until Han Geng is flat on his back. Heechul straddles him, his thighs pressing into Han Geng’s sides.

Clothes quickly become casualties in this sexual battle of wills, Heechul thinks that some things might have gotten torn off, torn apart, but he can’t bring himself to care. When Han Geng kisses him, when their tongues and their teeth clash together the world is quiet and silence is such a beautiful sound. Heechul can feel Han Geng’s erection pressing against the curve of his ass, hard, long, and it’s almost frightening how much he wants it. Wants Han Geng inside him, wants Han Geng to take him, consume him. Heechul’s blood feels hot as it pounds through his veins in violent time with his heartbeat.

Han Geng is fully erect—almost painfully—and it’s a delicious pain Heechul feels when he lowers himself down. Han Geng bucks his hips, trying to get himself further into Heechul’s tight warmth. But lying as he is he doesn’t have the angle to properly thrust, so he sits up. Heechul lets out a little whimper as Han Geng’s length is pushed further into him. They claw at each other, they hold on tight, Han Geng bucks and thrusts and Heechul doesn’t even try to hold back his cries of pleasure as Han Geng’s cock hits his prostate over and over sending waves of pleasure fizzing through his every nerve ending.

Han Geng comes first but Heechul isn’t far behind him, Han Geng’s own orgasm makes him pound harder into Heechul and that just pushes Heechul over the edge.

After, when they lay together—panting, bathed in sweat and come—that’s when Heechul thinks about the consequences of what they’ve done. After, when Han Geng doesn’t leave straight away even after he’s got what he wanted, left like others have done. That’s when Heechul stops to think about what it might be like to do this again, with Han Geng, to let himself cultivate some intimacy, to let himself connect with someone else.

Heechul feels peaceful, so peaceful, he wonders if the world will always be this quiet with Han Geng around. He hopes—almost desperately—so.

 

…End interlude two.


	10. Chapter Seven: A horse walks into a bar…the bartender asks “Why the long face?”

When Heechul wakes Han Geng isn’t there. The empty side of the bed is still slightly warm so he hasn’t been gone long. Heechul is surprised—and a little angry—at how much this hurts. Surprised by how much he actually wanted to see Han Geng when he woke, how much he wanted to see that silly, shy grin. He’s angry at himself for feeling this way, for letting himself get sucked in like this again. You think he would have learned by now.

He’s still tired, he slept so soundly last night—the sleep of the exhausted—his body is still sore from the grand fucking he got, so it takes him a while to hear it. Hear that jaunty yet stilted skip beat melody. He’s not fully awake yet, it’s a slow process but soon he’s firing on all cylinders and he knows there is an Immortal in the next room, in the living area. Waiting for him. Heechul kicks himself, both physically and mentally. For saying to Kangin that this wouldn’t happen, for letting his guard down. He reaches for his sword, he always keeps it there by the bed, always has to have a weapon handy, but it’s not there. Of course it’s not. Heechul hears laughter, soft, vicious. Kibum steps into the room, in one hand he holds Heechul’s sword, in his other hand he has a gun.

“You’re pathetic Chullie-ah.” Kibum says and his voice is almost cheerful.

Heechul resists the urge to clutch the bed clothes to his chest, to cover his nakedness. He forces himself to keep calm, to breathe deeply.

“Look at you.” Kibum continues. “One good fucking and you’re useless. But oh, you are so pretty when you’re asleep.”

Heechul wonders how long Kibum has been here, just how long since Han Geng left. Wants to ask but doesn’t, he doesn’t want Kibum to think, to know, Heechul is afraid.

“How did you get in?” Heechul asks, he tries to keep the quiver out of his voice. Kibum smiles, it’s a wide, toothy grin, an awful smile.

“I watched your friend leave.” Kibum says as if in answer to Heechul’s unasked questions. “Stupid little mortal boy couldn’t get out of here fast enough. Guess that’s one more who won’t be visiting the port of Heechul a second time. Aww, shame. Maybe next time, Chullie-ah. Maybe next time you’ll find someone who wants to stay with you.” Kibum smiles again, it’s a wicked, knowing smile. “I mean, Siwon wouldn’t stay with you, wouldn’t let you help him. He packed off up to Holy Ground rather than let you try to fix him. Seems you weren’t enough for him to stay, have you ever been good enough, Chullie-ah?”

Heechul doesn’t say anything. He just concentrates on not letting his hands shake visibly, shake from anger, from fear. He doesn’t think he’s concentrating hard enough.

“And Youngwoon,” Kibum continues. “He can only stomach your presence for so long. Poor, poor Chullie-ah, does anyone want you?”

“Fuck you.” Heechul spits out.

“No, thank you, Chul. I know all to well where you have been. Look at yourself, you’re shaking. Not such a tough guy without a weapon are you? You’re nothing Chullie-ah.”

Heechul starts to cry then, the tears come naturally enough. He buries his face in his hands and sniffles convincingly. He looks back up at Kibum, his face wet, his eyes puffy, but it’s clear that Kibum isn’t buying his act. Heechul shrugs, sniffs, wipes his face, sighs.

“It was worth a try.”

Suddenly Heechul is up out of the bed, he grabs hold of the covers and throws them at Kibum. He keeps hold of the end of the covers and as the bulk of them land gracefully over Kibum’s head Heechul lunges passed him, wrapping the material around Kibum’s body and pushing him. Hard. Kibum lets out a muffled curse as he lands on his butt. Heechul runs then, pausing only to pick up his sword that Kibum dropped, he doesn’t even stop to pick up a pair of pants. He reaches the door but even as he turns the handle he knows he’s to late. He hears Kibum behind him, hears the click of the gun.

“I didn’t say you could leave, Chullie-ah.” Kibum says. Heechul forces himself to turn around, forces himself to face Kibum, his back straight, his expression stoic. “We’re not finished yet.” Kibum fires the gun, it makes only the slightest ‘pop’, still it sounds too loud in the quiet of the room. Heechul has only seconds to think ‘silencer’ and then he feels the sting of the bullet and there is nothing.

 

||

 

Jungsu shakes him awake, forcefully, urgently. Kangin opens his eyes, blinks, looks up at Jungsu. Jungsu’s expression is tight, his forehead knitted with worry. Instantly Kangin is alert, he sits up.

“What is it?” He asks.

“Hyukjae’s not in his room.” Jungsu sounds—and looks—like he’s on the verge of tears. “I just went to check on them and Donghae’s still fast asleep but Hyukjae isn’t there.”

“It’s ok, calm down.” Kangin says, he reaches out, gently strokes Jungsu’s arm. He concentrates, listens, hears that tell tale buzz of an Immortal, it’s an almost frantic sound, alive with new energy. “He’s still in the house.” Kangin tells Jungsu and Jungsu breathes out a sigh of relief. “Have you checked the rest of the house?”

Jungsu shakes his head. “No, I looked in his room and then came straight here.”

Kangin smiles, leans in, kisses Jungsu tenderly. Already this has become second nature, to be with Jungsu, to touch him, to kiss him. Almost reluctantly Kangin gets out of the bed.

“Come on, lets go down there, see if he’s ok.”

“Um, Youngwoon?” Jungsu starts to say and it should feel strange to hear someone else—someone who wasn’t Heechul—call him that. But it doesn’t, it feels nice. “Shouldn’t you get dressed first?”

Kangin laughs and Jungsu laughs too. Kangin isn’t sure if Jungsu is laughing with him or at him. Probably both. Kangin has to hunt for his clothes, they are scattered around the room, thrown every which way in the excitement of last night. When he finds them he grimaces as he realizes he’s been wearing the same set for days. He hasn’t been back to his hotel in how long? Too long.

“I’m going to have to go back to my hotel.” Kangin says as he dresses.

“Oh.” Jungsu replies and it might be Kangin’s imagination but he thinks that Jungsu is trying not to sound disappointed.

“I’m going to need some clean clothes. In fact I should probably get all my stuff and check out if…”

“If…if what?”

“If,” Kangin is hesitant. “If I’m going to be staying here.”

Jungsu hugs him then. It’s kind of awkward because Kangin is only half dressed and the last thing he needs—even if it’s the first thing he wants—is for Jungsu to come into contact with bare skin. They have a lot to do today and neither of them can afford to get _distracted_.

Jungsu pulls away first.

“I’ll see you downstairs.” Jungsu says and then he’s gone. Kangin looks down at himself, at the tent at his crotch. He’s going to have to make a trip to the bathroom to ‘take care of business’ before he goes downstairs and takes care of business.

*

Kangin finds Jungsu, and Hyukjae, sitting at the table in the kitchen. Hyukjae is bent low, his head resting on the table, Jungsu has his arms around him. When Hyukjae looks up as Kangin enters it’s clear that he’s been crying.

“It’s louder now.” Hyukjae mumbles as he rubs snot from his nose. Jungsu passes him a tissue. “What’s that noise?” Hyukjae doesn’t look at Kangin but Kangin knows that the question is for him. Kangin sighs, runs a hand through his hair, sits at the table. Jungsu reaches out and takes his hand.

“It’s me.” Kangin says. “That noise you hear in your head, it’s me. It’s the sound of another Immortal. What does it sound like to you?”

“A buzzing.” Hyukjae says, he looks pained, he buries his head in his arms again. “Make it stop.”

“I can’t, kid. I wish I could But I can’t. There are ways to quiet it and ways to control it, but you can’t make it stop completely. Heechul is better at it than me, when he gets here we’ll help you learn. But you can’t stop it, you’re going to need it.” Kangin pauses, looks at Jungsu. Jungsu smiles at him, it’s a bright, radiant smile. When Jungsu smiles at him like that Kangin thinks he just might be the king of the world. “Last night you were in shock. You wouldn’t have noticed the noise then. But now your body is adapting to its immortality and that sound is your early warning system. Don’t worry, I’ll help you.” Kangin hasn’t had a student since Kibum, he didn’t think he would ever have one again. This time, this time he swears that it’s going to be different. Kangin looks back at Jungsu, looks into his eyes. “Everything is going to be ok.”

“Did you manage to talk to Donghae at all last night?” Jungsu asks Hyukjae. Hyukjae nods, or at least it looks like he does, it’s hard to tell with his head in his arms like that.

“He thinks I’m a superhero” Hyukjae sniffs and Jungsu laughs softly. Jungsu hugs Hyukjae close, doesn’t take his eyes off Kangin’s face.

“I think you are too.” Jungsu says. “I think you both are.”

*

Kangin has a plan, or more like a series of goals as opposed to an actual plan but that doesn’t make them any less valid. His plan—goal—is to get his stuff from the hotel, and Heechul’s stuff, along with Heechul, Heechul is just going to have to suck it up and come quietly. Then he is going to pack everyone off to Siwon’s temple. Once the residents of the bar, including Hyukjae—boy might have a score to settle now but he won’t be settling it yet—are safe then he, Heechul and Zhou Mi are going to hunt Kibum down. And they aren’t going to stop until he is dead. Permanently.

Kangin thinks, knows, he should have done it a century ago. After Yoonji.

It’s a good plan, goal. It’s a shame that in all of his years things rarely go the way he wants.

Kangin knows something is wrong the minute he gets to the hotel. If the police cars parked outside weren’t a dead give away then the fact that Zhou Mi’s young watcher, Han Geng, is pacing outside was. Kangin listens carefully, there are no Immortals in the area. Heechul isn’t in the hotel. He should be. He’s not. Kangin feels his heart drop into his stomach. Han Geng sees him and comes over.

“I can’t get back up to Heechul’s room.” Han Geng says. He doesn’t even try to speak Korean and Kangin thinks that’s fine. There are a surprising number of people milling about, brought out by the commotion no doubt. Their conversation will have a better chance of not being overheard or understood if they speak another language. Kangin notes that Han Geng doesn’t use formalities when referring to Heechul. Kangin doesn’t really want to think about just how close the two got last night. “I only left for a little while.” Han Geng continues, his words coming out in a rush and Kangin has to gesture for him to slow down, Chinese isn’t one of his best languages. “I had to report Henry’s death to the council, I had to check on Zhou Mi. I was only gone for an hour. I left a note.”

A note, Kangin thinks almost derisively and he resists the urge to punch the boy.

“when I got back,” Han Geng gestures to the steadily increasing police presence. “It was already like this. Security locked the place down, I can’t get in because I am not a guest.”

“Heechul’s not in there anymore.” Kangin says and Han Geng looks like someone’s punched him in the chest.

Kangin can get into the hotel because he _is_ a guest. He shows his card key to the stern guard at the door, indicating that Han Geng is with him. It doesn’t take long to find out—from shell shocked staff, from gossiping guests—that a maid has been found murdered in one of the empty bedrooms on the fourth floor. The same floor Kangin and Heechul are staying on.

Kangin doesn’t bother going to his room when they get up to the fourth floor. The police look like that they are ready to commence a room by room search of the floor and Kangin has to get to Heechul’s room before they do.

There is a maid standing alone in the corridor, standing by her trolley of towels and linen. She looks a little lost, confused, scared. Kangin accidentally bumps into her, he bows, apologizes, palms the master key card he took from her apron pocket. Heechul’s room is a mess. The bed clothes are torn and thrown everywhere. Heechul’s sword lays abandoned on the now bare bed. It’s Han Geng that finds the spots of blood by the door.

“Oh Chullie-ah.” Kangin whispers as he surveys the wreckage. “I’m so sorry.”

Not for the first time Kangin wishes he were better at sensing Immortals. Sometimes if an Immortal is powerful enough he will leave a residual trace that the extra sensitive—like Heechul—can pick up. Kangin is far from sensitive. He can’t even sense Heechul’s presence in his own room let alone anyone else.

Kangin runs through possible scenarios as to what happened, comes up with two. One, Hunters came and took him. This is unlikely since Hunters tend to steer clear of Gatherings since that’s when Immortals are at their strongest, both physically and in numbers, and Hunters are, ultimately, cowards. The only other possibility is…

“Kibum.” Kangin growls and he punches the wall. The plaster cracks and splinters. He doesn’t even notice the wound on his hand, it closes over and heals in seconds.

Kangin instructs Han Geng to pack up some of Heechul’s things.

“He’s going to need them when we get him back.”

Then he goes to his own room and packs up his stuff, then as unobtrusively as they can they leave.

 

||

 

Kibum waits. He sits with his head resting on Heechul’s chest, waiting for him to stutter back to life, waiting for that pretty heart to beat again. He’s not been waiting all that long. He’s been in and out running errands secure in the knowledge that his prize wouldn’t be going anywhere. But now, now he thinks that it’s time, the time that sleeping beauty is going to wake up. It starts off slow, just a single beat and then another and then another until the rhythm of life fully kicks in and when Heechul’s heartbeat is in full swing so too is the drum beat inside Kibum’s head.

Kibum watches as Heechul opens his eyes, blinks blearily, looks around. It takes a few minutes for Heechul to recognize his predicament, but that’s ok, Kibum can wait. Heechul’s gaze passes over Kibum as he takes in his surroundings and when awareness finally dawns it’s not Kibum that Heechul focuses on. No, it’s the large blade suspended over his head. Heechul thrashes against his bonds. It’s an instinctual reaction and a half hearted one, Heechul’s body still hasn’t fully recovered from his death.

“Morning sunshine.” Kibum says and he’s all vim and vigour and bright cheer. Heechul doesn’t reply and Kibum narrows his eyes, silence is no fun. “I said morning sunshine.”

“What is this, Bummie-ah?” Heechul says. His voice is weak, sad, almost resigned. That’s no fun either.

“A test.” Kibum says with a smile. “A test for you and your friends, old and new. And a test for Youngwoon.” He spits out Kangin’s name, feels like it leaves a dirty taste in his mouth. “It’s something I like to call ’Do they care about you enough to come looking for you before…’” Kibum makes a cutting motion at his throat and gestures to the blade about Heechul’s head.

Heechul is lying—bound spread eagled—on an alter. It’s not quite the stone sacrificial alter they had back in the day, more like it’s a wooden table, but Kibum had to make do. Kibum has dressed him in some clothes he found in Heechul’s room, all that naked flesh? Disgusting, Kibum thinks. Above Heechul, in line with his neck, Kibum has hung an old guillotine blade. It’s rusted but still it’s sharp. A rope, thin, barely more than a piece of string, is the only thing holding the blade aloft. Thin rope, old and half frayed. Kibum wonders how long it will last.

He gets up from the chair he was sitting in, sitting vigilant at Heechul’s ‘death bed’, he starts to pace the room. They are in the cellar of a fine old house, or what used to be a fine old house. The walls are grand and strong, built to withstand war. But now the house is old and faded, half falling down like most of the houses of it’s time. Age has taken it’s toll.

“Do you recognize this place, Chullie-ah? Do you even know where you are?” Kibum gestures around him, at the dank, at the gloom. “You used to spend a lot of time here back then, back when Youngwoon was pretending to be something he wasn’t. Back when you all abandoned me.”

Heechul doesn’t say anything at first. Kibum wants him to argue, wants him to deny it. But Heechul doesn’t.

“I never figured you for the jealous type, Bummie-ah.” Heechul says. He doesn’t move his head to look at Kibum, instead he keeps his eyes fixed on the blade above him. “Batshit and homicidal, yes. I didn’t think you were capable of feeling anything else.” Kibum growls low in his throat but now that he has started Heechul doesn’t seem to want to stop talking. “Are you still sore because I always had Youngwoon’s attention and you didn’t? He tried to be there for you but you always had to have it your way, you always had to be right. Even though you knew that what you were doing was wrong.”

“I was saving people.” Kibum says, trying to defend himself, trying to make Heechul see. “Those Immortals I killed, you know what some of them were capable of, what all of them were capable of.”

“Maybe it started out that way, but you should have listened to Youngwoon, he wanted to help you. He warned you, we all warned you what would happened if you continued. Don’t blame me, don’t blame Youngwoon for what you’ve become.”

“I’ll do just want I like, Chullie-ah. Like you said. I’m good at that.”

Kibum sits down again, scoots his chair as close to Heechul and the alter as it can go, rests his head on Heechul’s chest. Heechul jerks his body as if trying to shake Kibum off. But it’s a futile effort, bound as he is there is nothing Heechul can do.

“I went to church today, Chullie-ah.” Kibum says, his voice a lilting, mocking, sing song. “Siwon wouldn’t come out but I saw him, and I saw his new boy, that pretty little pre-Immortal. Already they seem quite close. I’m surprised you let that happen, Chullie-ah. Or were you just not given any choice?”

Heechul sniffs like he’s trying not to cry. Kibum thinks it’s a wonderful sound.

“And Youngwoon, he’s got himself a pretty new toy too. Innocents to protect. He always did like to play the hero didn’t he? You talk big, Chullie-ah, but look at how easily you have been replaced.”

Kibum feels it then, feels Heechul’s body shudder as it’s wracked with sobs. Silent sobs, Heechul is still trying not to cry. Trying and failing. Kibum stands, leans over Heechul, wipes away his tears.

“Don’t cry, Chullie-ah.” Kibum says, his voice soft, his tone fond. “There is still hope. I’ve let them know where they can find you. I’ve left a note.” Kibum smiles bright. “It’s up to them if they come and get you. I’m sure they will.” Kibum looks up at the sharp edge suspended above them. The rope creaks, the blade sways. “Maybe they’ll even be on time.”

Then Kibum leaves. He doesn’t turn back to look at Heechul. Just leaves him there alone to face his fate.

 

||

 

When Kangin gets back to the bar—with Han Geng in tow—he’s greeted by Jungsu’s welcoming smile. But that smile fades when Jungsu catches sight of the grim look on Kangin’s face.

“What is it?” Jungsu asks. “What’s happened?”

Kangin doesn’t answer right away. He looks around the bar, everyone is in attendance, Ryeowook, Donghae, Hyukjae, Kyuhyun, there is a place setting set out at the bar. Chopsticks, plates of half eaten food.

“We have a customer.” Jungsu says. “He’s in the bathroom.”

This puts Kangin even more on edge. The only people out on the streets right now are those that have to be, or those included in the Gathering. Immortals or those caught up in the struggle, like Jungsu. No one is popping into a dive bar for lunch just for the fun of it. If the customer is still in the bathroom then he’s mortal. If he’s an Immortal then he is long gone.

“He’s been in the bathroom a while now, Hyung.” Ryeowook says. “You don’t think he’s gone out the window to avoid paying do you?”

“If he has, I think it’s the least of our worries right now, Ryeowookie.”

“He seemed so nice.” Ryeowook says a little forlornly. He sits down at the bar next to the vacant setting.

“What’s happened?” Jungsu asks Kangin again and the tone of his voice implies he’ll tolerate no more continued silence on Kangin’s part.

“Heechul’s missing.” Kangin says. Jungsu pales, fumbles to find a seat. Kangin tells them what he found when he got to the hotel. Han Geng mutters his agreement to the story.

“You left him?” Kyuhyun says to Han Geng, his voice loud, angry. “In his condition?”

“Kyuhyun, don’t.” Jungsu says. “It’s not his fault.”

Kangin knows this is true, he knows that Han Geng knows this. But Kangin also knows that the young watcher is beating himself up over it anyway.

There is silence for a few minutes, everyone lost in their own thoughts until someone—a new voice—says:

“Oh poor Heechul, that’s awful.”

Kangin groans, bangs his head on the table he’s sitting at.

“You’re still here!” Ryeowook says. Kangin groans again, it’s a long, frustrated sound.

“Yes,” The customer says. “I’m sorry I was so long in the bathroom. I spilt water down myself and it took a while to dry. The food was delicious, could I have some more? I’m very hungry.”

“Of course.” Ryeowook says with delight and Kangin hears him race off to the kitchen.

“Now.” The customer says. “Youngwoon, what are you going to do about Heechul? You can’t just leave him missing.”

Kangin looks up then, looks around the bar, looks at Jungsu. Jungsu doesn’t look happy. Kangin gestures helplessly at the customer.

“This is Jongwoon.” Kangin says, determinedly not looking at Jongwoon. “My Watcher.” He bangs his head on the table again and then again. He’s starting to get a headache. “How did you find me?”

“It wasn’t easy and I’m not happy. I have been put on probation thanks to you, Youngwoon.”

“You Don’t get to call me that, it’s not my name anymore.”

“That’s not what your file says.”

“Then update the damn file, it’s your job isn’t it?”

Jongwoon makes a non-committal noise and Kangin hears him retake his seat at the bar.

“Could you go away and get lost again.” Kangin pleads, his head still resting on the table. “I don’t have time to be dealing with you right now.”

“No,” Jongwoon says simply. “I like Heechul, I’m going to stay and help.”

Kangin bangs his head on the table again. And then —once the dizziness has cleared—he hears it. That buzzing noise and he knows that Hyukjae hears it too because the kid lets out a little whimper and tries to cover his ears like that’s going to help. Kangin listens, he hears two Immortals coming. Two and a half, a potential.

Zhou Mi enters the bar followed by Sungmin and…

“Holy shit.” Kangin breathes.

“Please don’t swear like that, Kangin.” Siwon says as he shuts the door behind him. Siwon bows formally to the occupants of the bar and then takes a seat at Kangin’s table. It’s strange seeing him out like this, almost alien. Despite the fact that he’s wearing street clothes, and not his monks robes, Siwon still looks out of place here.

“What brings you topside?” Kangin asks even though he thinks he already knows the answer.

“Kibum came to the temple today.” Siwon says sombrely. From his shirt pocket he pulls out a plain white envelope, he looks it over, hands it to Kangin. “He left this.”

Kangin opens the envelope, pulls out a small piece of card. On one side of the card are written the words: ’Little church mouse come out and play, I’m going to take a head today.’ On the other side is written: ’Let’s go back to the start again.’ Inside the envelope is a lock of bright red hair.

“Chullie-ah.” Kangin says softly.

“Let’s go back to the start.” Jungsu muses. “What does that mean?”

Kangin shakes his head. He doesn’t know.

“Kangin?” Zhou Mi says, his voice curious. The curiosity seems to make his accent thinker. “Does the name Yoonji mean anything to you?”

Kangin feels his heart constrict, his mouth dries and he can’t answer. Zhou Mi just takes his stunned silence as some sort of confirmation and carries on.

“I dreamed last night.” Zhou Mi says, his voice soft, almost floaty. “I dreamed of a beautiful woman, Yoonji. I don’t know why, but it felt connected to the vision I had of Heechul.”

Kangin shakes his head again. It didn’t make sense.

“But that’s not where it started. It Didn’t start with Yoonji.” Kangin pauses, looks out the window. The sky is starting to clear, the dark clouds dissipating. The Gathering is almost over. “That’s where it all ended.”

 

…end chapter seven.


	11. Chapter Eight: And then he said “Don’t lose your head”…The punchline is all in the delivery

There is silence. A deep, resound, ugly silence. Kangin watches Jungsu fuss around, cleaning, sweeping, doing everything but keeping still. Eventually he runs out of things to do and resorts to just pacing the room. Kangin gets up, goes to Jungsu, puts his arms around him. Kangin needs this, needs to feel Jungsu’s warmth, needs to have him close. He buries his face in Jungsu’s shoulder, he doesn’t realize he’s crying until Jungsu reaches up to wipe away the tears.

“Do you think he might be at your old house?” Siwon asks and it’s clear that he wants Kangin to answer, but Kangin doesn’t want to.

It doesn’t fit with the note—the clue—that Kibum left, but it would fit with Kibum. The house that Kangin shared with Yoonji, his wife, and the place where Kibum murdered her. It would be fitting that Kibum take Heechul there to kill him. Kangin loved his wife, but Heechul and Siwon they are the only constants he has ever had, Heechul is like a brother to him, the only family he’s ever really known.

But still, something didn’t fit. There was more to this—a lot more—Kangin just can’t pin it down. He never could see clearly when it came to Kibum, but Heechul always did. Heechul could figure this out. Kangin wishes desperately that Heechul were here with them and safe rather than god only knew where.

“We have to go there.” Han Geng says and Kangin almost feels like laughing. “It’s the only real lead we have and we have to start somewhere and soon.”

Kangin knows this, he does but… “It’s been over a hundred years since I left there.” Kangin says and he holds onto Jungsu tighter, using Jungsu’s presence to anchor himself to the here and now, to not let himself fall into memories of the past. “It’s been a mortal life time, there will be other people living there now if the place is still standing at all.”

“It’s still there.” Siwon says. Kangin opens his mouth to ask how Siwon knows this but Siwon carries on talking, cutting him off. “And I very much doubt that Kibum will care about any other residents. It’s secluded, it’s the last place you would think of or even want to go unless you had to. It’s perfect for him.”

Thoughts bubble up inside Kangin’s head. Violent, bloody. He remembers the look of horror on Yoonji’s face, she’d seen her death coming. He thinks about Kibum, thinks about him dismembered and begging for Kangin to take his head. Kangin has to let go of Jungsu then, least his lover be tainted by the imagined destruction.

“Where is it?” Han Geng demands and when Kangin doesn’t answer he turns to Siwon. “Where is it?”

“It’s a ways from here.” Kangin sighs. “We’re going to need a car.”

“I have one.” Jungsu says quickly, like he’s glad that he can help in some way. Kangin thinks he helps just by being here. “It’s out back. It doesn’t get used much because some people won’t let me drive.” He looks pointedly around the room. Ryeowook shrinks back a little, Kyuhyun looks unrepentant. “But I don’t have the keys.” He looks around again. “Who had them last?”

“I got them!” Donghae says and he retreats to the back rooms, Kangin hears him stomp up the stairs. He returns minutes later with a ring of keys which he hands to Jungsu, Jungsu presses them into Kangin’s hand.

“Ok.” Kangin says. “Siwon and I will go, the rest of you…”

“I’m going too.” Han Geng says, interrupting him. Kangin tries to stare the kid down but Han Geng just looks back resolutely. Kangin nods slowly, resigned.

“Ok, Han Geng comes too.”

“And me.” Sungmin puts in.”

“No!” Both Kangin and Jungsu say in unison. Kangin looks at Siwon, he is supposed to be the kid’s teacher. He’s surprised—shocked—when Siwon doesn’t seem to object. For the first time Kangin notices how close the two are sitting, the way their bodies lean towards each other, the way Siwon lightly touches Sungmin’s wrist. It’s only been less than two days since Sungmin was sent to Siwon’s temple, Kangin thinks that Heechul might have been justified in his indignation at the two being left alone together.

“No.” Kangin says again. He’s looking at Sungmin but the declaration is really meant for Siwon.

“He’s my student.” Siwon says, he stands, stretches himself to his full height, which is kind of intimidating. “He comes.” Siwon’s voice holds an authority that Kangin resents but can’t argue with.

Kangin looks at Jungsu. Jungsu shakes his head, mouths ‘Please no.’ Jungsu is on the verge of tears again.

“We’ll take care of him.” Kangin says. “I’ll take care of him.” He leans in to kiss Jungsu on the forehead but Jungsu pulls away. Kangin feels his heart twist. He turns on Hyukjae. “You’re my student.” He says. “And you’re staying here.”

Hyukjae nods, looks relieved.

“Right.” Kangin continues. “We’ll get the rest of you on to Holy Ground.”

“That won’t help.” Siwon cuts in and there is such a sudden look of helplessness, no, hopelessness on his face that Kangin feels his heart break. Siwon looks like someone who has everything taken away from him. “Safety on Holy Ground is just an illusion, I know that now. The only thing that it keeps us safe from is having to play the Game. Kibum can’t come on to Holy Ground and take our heads in a fight, that doesn’t mean that he can’t kill us there, kill them.”

“Ok, why can’t you fight on Holy Ground?” Jungsu asks and the words come out in such a rush that it’s clear he’s been wanting to ask for a while.

“Destruction.” Siwon says.

“Total.” Kangin says.

“It’s only happened once, many thousands of years ago. So long ago that it’s more myth than anything. But that myth is more than that enough to put the…” Siwon chuckles darkly. “The fear of god into all of us.”

“What happened?”

Siwon shrugs. “That’s just it. We don’t know. We only know where it’s supposed to have happened.”

“Then where?”

“Atlantis.” Siwon, Kangin and Zhou Mi all say together. Jungsu starts to laugh a little, stops when he sees that all three Immortals are deadly serious.

Siwon shakes himself as if shaking off a bad memory. “The best thing.” He says, looking around the bar. “The best thing would be for you all to barricade yourselves in here. Block all the door and windows. You should be safe until we get back.”

Kangin turns to Zhou Mi. “You’ll take care of them?”

Zhou Mi nods, bows. “I will protect them with my life.” He says.

“Ok then.” Kangin says, he picks up his swords, swings it around. “Lets go get Heechul back.”

“You know this is likely to be a trap right?” Siwon says to Kangin as they file out of the door.

“Yeah.” Kangin says almost wearily. “Yeah I do.”

 

||

 

Heechul doesn’t know how long he has been here, been lying here like this. There is a window high up by the ceiling, it’s small, cracked, dirty, it lets little to no light in and Kibum turned out the cellar lights when he left. It’s like Heechul has no concept of time anymore, he’s just there waiting in the dark. But waiting for what he doesn’t know. It feels like he might have been lying on this table forever. He is sure that Kangin, that Siwon, that Zhou Mi will come for him, but as the blade sways and seems to inch its way closer he doesn’t think they will be in time.

There is a chip in the blade. Even though he can’t see it clearly anymore he knows it’s there. Knows it’s there from studying the blade earlier in the light. The blade is cracked and rusted but that doesn’t make it any less deadly, Heechul knows this and even if he can’t see it he can’t look away. It’s like his gaze is frozen, locked on to the swinging sharp edge. He wonders when the rope will give way, when the blade will fall, when death will come. He wonders, he wonders that since no other Immortal will be around to take in his essence what will become of him. There will be a body left behind, something for someone to bury if they feel like it. But what will happen to him? To that indefinable thing that is him, where will that go? Will he go to heaven? Could he become a ghost? That might be interesting, he would haunt the shit out of Kangin. Kangin would from this point on be forever cock blocked by an incredibly irritated spirit. Heechul smiles a little at the thought, the thought of Kangin’s eternal frustration. The rope creeks again and to Heechul’s vivid imagination it looks like the blade dips a little, dangerously. Heechul’s momentary smile dissipates.

He never actually thought it would end like this, but then he never really thought about it ever ending at all. The thing about living forever is that the longer you live the less you want to die.

The silence around him is deafening, the swish the blade makes as it gently swings is loud, the creaking of the rope holding it up is louder. Heechul thinks he hears the rope snap and finally, finally he is able to close his eyes. He screws his eyes shut, turns his head away. If he can’t see the death coming then it won’t really happen will it? He holds his breath, tenses every muscle. It’s instinct to curl up into a foetal position but he can’t move, can’t move at all. He waits, he thinks it will be quick, but the seconds tick by and nothing happens. It’s a Herculean effort but he manages to open his eyes. He sees the blade, sees it clearly now. It’s barely an inch from his face, he sees the rust, sees the cracks, sees the chip, but he doesn’t see what’s holding it up now.

 

||

 

Kangin built this house, it was built with hard work and love but as he looks at it now he feels nothing but regret. It’s a mix of traditional Korean design with a western slant, a missionary friend of Siwon’s, an American, helped design it back before the turn of the century, helped build it too, as did Siwon. As did Heechul. It sits in a large clearing near the outskirts of Seoul. Kangin remembers taking Yoonji here before the house was built.

Kangin stands at the edge of the clearing with Siwon by his side, he never thought they would both be like here again. Here like this.

“There is only one Immortal inside.” Siwon says and Kangin nods, he already knew that.

“Is it Heechul?” Han Geng asks. The boy is twitchy, restless.

“Yes, I think so.” Siwon says. Kangin knows that Siwon isn’t as good at sensing Immortals as Heechul, but he’s a lot better then Kangin. Still, Kangin knows it’s Heechul in there, knows it in his heart and his head. He wants to go in there and get him.

“Where is this Kibum?” Han Geng asks. The kid has a knife, it’s in a sheath hung at his waist. He pulls it out now, holds it out ready. Kangin has no doubt that Han Geng knows how to use it.

“I don’t know.” Kangin says and that worries him. He was hoping that Kibum would be here waiting for them, waiting for him. The fact that he’s not, the fact that he left Heechul alone, it scares him. He’s scared for Heechul, he’s scared of what Kibum might be doing right now.

“Ok,” Kangin says. He puts his own sword back in the sheath strapped to his back. He doesn’t think he will need it now that Kibum is absent. Kangin doubts there will be any mortal guards or any mortal presence at all. This is confirmed when finds the body inside the front door. It falls out of the house as Kangin slides open the door, like it’s been propped up there, waiting to welcome him. Kangin can’t tell if it’s male or female. Han Geng grimaces, looks a little green. Kangin doesn’t blame him. It’s a horrific sight.

They have split up. There are two entrances to the house, front and back. Siwon and Sungmin went round back, Kangin and Han Geng took the front. They search room to room, slowly, carefully, looking for Heechul and any surprises Kibum night have left behind. They find Heechul in the cellar, the last place they look. Kangin sees Heechul lying there on the table and he runs to him, without giving a thought to any traps that might be lurking. Kangin hears Han Geng following close at his heels.

Kangin sees the blade start to fall in awful, awful slow motion.

 

||

 

Kibum stands at the end of the road. From when he looks on he has a perfect view of the bar, Leeteuk’s, with it’s pretty little owner and its pretty little occupants. He knows there are two Immortals in there, he can just about hear them, they float on the periphery of his awareness. One baby, one ancient. Kibum wonders if they can sense his presence. Probably. The ancient one should be able to at least, not that it’s going to do him any good. Kibum thinks they are probably racing to batten down the hatches. Oh no, don’t let the crazy man get in.

Kibum is a little disappointed at the lightening sky. It looks like the clouds are clearing, it might be a nice evening. Bright, clear, warm. The Gathering is almost over and Kibum thinks he is going to miss it’s destructive energy.

But still, there is much fun to be had before this last Gathering night is out.

His sword is strapped to his side, he isn’t going to need it yet. He checks the number of bullets in his gun. He smiles and starts walking to the bar.

 

||

 

At first the blade just hangs there, it swings and it sways. It’s so close. Heechul’s heart feels like it’s trying to beat its way out of his chest. Heechul thinks this might be what a heart attack feels like. It feels like he stops breathing.

Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, the blade rises. Bit by bit, inch by inch as someone pulls on the snapped rope, pulls it up and away. Heechul lets out a deep shuddering breath, closes his eyes, starts thanking a deity he never used to believe in.

“Chullie-ah?” he hears someone call to him. A familiar voice, soft and kind and Heechul feels tears fall. He doesn’t know if he’s happy that someone actually came or scared that it’s all in his imagination.

“Chullie-ah?” The voice says again, firmer and more insistent but still soft, still kind.

Heechul opens his eyes. Sees Kangin standing over him, sees Han Geng holding on to the rope, holding up the blade. He sees the pretty pre-Immortal, he sees…

“Siwonnie.” Heechul says with a sigh. “I must be dreaming. Am I dead? I think I might be dead. Sorry about that.”

“You’re not dead, Chullie-ah.” He hears Kangin say gruffly. “Stop being such a drama queen.”

“You need to get him off that table quickly.” Han Geng says. His voice sounds strained. The blade is probably heavy. “I can’t hold this up much longer.”

Heechul feels someone start to fumble at the ties on his arms, his legs and suddenly he can move. Slowly. His muscles, his limbs are strained from staying still for so long. He feels gentle and careful hands help him sit up and then stand. His legs are shaking and he stumbles and falls. He feels Siwon’s arms close around him, hold him and he closes his eyes. He is not going to cry again, dammit.

“Chullie-ah?” Kangin says again and if he says it one more time Heechul think he just might punch him. “Where is Kibum?”

Heechul shakes his head, but then he realizes that they probably can’t see that gesture since his head is bent low and he can’t raise it, can’t look at any of them.

“I don’t know.” He mumbles, he shakes his head again, shakes off Siwon’s touch, tries to walk by himself but again he stumbles. This time it’s Han Geng who catches him. Instinctively Heechul tries to shake off his touch too but Han Geng holds on tight, doesn’t let him go. “I don’t know,” Heechul repeats. “He just left.”

“We have to get back.” Kangin says, he sounds almost desperate. “And quick.”

Heechul is half carried half dragged out of the cellar, out of the house. He hates being so weak but he just can’t get his legs to work, it still doesn’t feel real that he’s out here and not still on that table. He’s gently loaded into a car, Siwon on one side of him and Han Geng on the other. It’s a quiet journey, and long. Kangin drives like a maniac and Heechul is bounced around until he feels dizzy. He leans into Han Geng, Han Geng puts his arms around him and for a little while—at least—Heechul almost feels safe.

 

||

 

Kangin drives fast, as fast as he can but still he feels like it might not be fast enough. He feels like his heart is caught in a vice, it hurts, that pain is propelling him forward, to Jungsu. He hopes, prays, that it’s not too late.

As he pulls the car up to the bar he can see that the door of the bar isn’t just open, it’s missing.

“Oh god no.” Kangin whispers. He brings the car to a crunching stop in the middle of the street, doesn’t bother to park, doesn’t bother to turn off the engine. He stops the car, gets out, leaves the door open. He runs into the bar, the sight he is met with brings him up short. There is blood, so much blood. Kangin counts the people in the bar, counts the dead, counts the wounded. There are six people, one missing.

Zhou Mi is dead. Gut wound, point blank. His skin is pallid, his lips blue. Kyuhyun cradles him gently, holds him, is whispering ’Wake up wake up please wake up.’ Hyukjae is dead too, chest shot, also at close range, it’s a messy wound but it’s already starting to heal. Donghae is holding him, his knees tucked under him. Donghae looks scared, like a lost little boy. Ryeowook has been shot too, in the leg. He sits curled up in Jongwoon’s arms, he’s crying softly.

Jungsu isn’t there. Kangin resists the urge to tear through the bar, tear through the house looking for him. Kangin knows that he won’t find him, he won’t be there.

“Oh,” Kangin hears Sungmin gasp out. “Oh no!”

Sungmin pushes passed him, runs to Kyuhyun. Kyuhyun barely even looks up.

“What happened?” Kangin asks the room at large, no one answers.

The rest of the group comes in from the car, Siwon is the last. He has the car keys in his hand.

“Take Heechul upstairs.” Kangin orders Han Geng. “Third room on the right.” That’s Jungsu’s room. It has the most comfortable bed. Heechul will be able to sleep there, recover. Han Geng nods and pulls Heechul away.

Kangin feels Siwon place a hand on his shoulder.

“Kibum was here.” Siwon says and Kangin laughs, a dark and low sound. Kangin already knew that.

The wound in Ryeowook’s leg is only a flesh wound but still it’s deep. Siwon gets to work on cleaning and stitching. They can’t afford to take him to the hospital, there is no way of disguising that it’s a gun shot wound. Siwon is more than capable of taking care of it, though they have nothing to dull the boy’s pain save for whiskey and aspirin. It’s not until he’s sure that Ryeowook is being looked after that Jongwoon leaves his side and finally tells Kangin what happened. He is the only one of the group able to think clearly at this point.

He tells a short and simple tale, straight to the point. Kibum came, he broke in, broke through the barricade they had set up by the door. He had a gun. He shot Zhou Mi first and then Hyukjae. He wanted Jungsu to go with him, threatened to shoot the others unless Jungsu did what Kibum wanted. At first Jungsu refused so Kibum shot Ryeowook in the leg, said it would be the head next if Jungsu said no again. Jungsu left with him then, that was about half an hour ago. Jongwoon doesn’t know where they went.

“All he said.” Jongwoon says. “Was ‘Tell Youngwoon, let’s go back to the start.’”

Kangin curses, punches the wall, punches the table, punches the wall again. He starts to shake, feels suddenly cold.

“I know where he went.” Kangin says quietly. Siwon looks up from his ministrations.

“Where?”

Kangin shakes his head, he’s not going to tell him, tell any of them. This, this he has to do by himself.

“Look after them, Siwon.” Kangin says then he scoops up the car keys from where Siwon left them. On his way out of the door he stops at Donghae’s side, Donghae and Kyuhyun still sit on the floor carefully cradling the fallen Immortals. Kangin bends down, waits for Donghae to look at him. When he doesn’t Kangin gently takes hold of Donghae’s chin, makes him look up.

“He’ll be all right.” Kangin says and even though he doesn’t say it out loud, he is referring to Hyukjae _and_ Jungsu. He is going to get Jungsu back. He is. “He’ll wake up soon. He’s a superhero, remember?”

Donghae nods, it’s an awkward gesture since Kangin still has hold of his chin. Kangin tries to smile but knows it looks false. Kangin leaves then.

“Kangin!” Siwon calls after him. “Youngwoon! Where are you going?”

 

…end chapter eight.


	12. Interlude Three: finding comfort in the chaos.

Heechul thinks about telling Han Geng that he can leave, that he doesn’t have to stay here in this room with him. Wants to tell Han Geng that he will be fine left on his own. Heechul thinks that he will be fine, maybe, he knows he’s safe now, that he’s safe here in this house. But he also knows that he doesn’t want Han Geng to leave him again. He doesn’t think he could take the rejection, not now. So he just lies there on the bed and Han Geng sits by his side and neither of them says anything for the longest time.

He hears it when Kangin leaves. To Heechul, Kangin’s presence sounds like Jungle drums, brash and loud and powerful. Those drums they falter and they fade as Kangin gets further away. Heechul thinks he hears a car start up and drive off.

“Where did he go?” Heechul mumbles to himself.

“Where did who go?” Han Geng asks, he’s confused, but then he can’t hear them like Heechul can.

“Never mind.” Heechul murmurs and they lapse into silence again.

There is a soft knock at the door, Han Geng gets up to answer it, holding the door open but a crack so that the visitor can’t see inside. It’s Jongwoon, Heechul can hear his voice. They talk for a minute or so, Han Geng opens the door a little wider and they do that ‘Watcher thing’ they nod respectfully and hold up their hands and show each other their wrists. They both have Watcher tattoos, intricate little designs inked onto their wrists, though some have them in more _interesting_ places. Sometimes Heechul thinks that Immortals should have a special tattoo too, maybe a skull and bones motif. Heechul has always kind of wanted to be a pirate.

“What’s going on?” Heechul asks after Han Geng closes the door and comes back to sit on the edge of the bed.

Han Geng tells him, about Jungsu, about Kangin leaving. Heechul starts to get up but Han Geng pushes him back down, gently but firmly. Heechul pushes him back but Han Geng is stronger and this time he doesn’t hold any of the strength back and he holds Heechul down.

“Get off me.” Heechul snarls but he lacks venom, enthusiasm, he’s still weak, tired.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I know where he went, I’m going after him.”

“No, you’re not.” Han Geng speaks slowly, almost patronisingly. Heechul almost wants to slap the expression of his face.

“Don’t treat me like a child.” Heechul sneers.

“Then stop acting like one.”

Heechul just glares at him balefully, petulantly. He can’t stay here, he can’t, not when Kangin might—does—need help. He can’t. Han Geng gets up and blocks the door.

“Move.” Heechul growls and Han Geng just shakes his head. Heechul sits up, scoots to the edge of the bed, sits there glaring defiantly.

“You might be Immortal.” Han Geng says in his broken Korean. “But you’re not superhuman. You need to rest.”

Deep down Heechul knows that he is right, Heechul hates that he is right.

“Why do you care?” Heechul asks and he hates the resignation, the hopelessness in his voice. He wants to hit Han Geng, hurt him for making him feel like this.

“Because it’s my fault.” Han Geng half shouts as if saying the words loud will help Heechul to understand. “I shouldn’t have left. “If…I hadn’t…”

Heechul just shakes his head. They don’t have enough words for this. The little Chinese that Heechul knows and the little Korean Han Geng knows, none of it converges to form the basis of a coherent conversation.

“Don’t flatter yourself, boy.” Heechul says, he tries to keep derision out of his voice but doesn’t quite manage. It still hurts, he still hurts no matter how much we wants to pretend otherwise. “If you’d have stayed he would have come in anyway and you wouldn’t have been able to stop him. I couldn’t. He’d have killed you, so it’s better that you did leave.”

There, Heechul doesn’t care. He doesn’t.

“I’m sorry.” Han Geng says and he moves from the door, kneels in front of Heechul, rests his head in Heechul’s lap. Heechul thinks about shoving him off but in the end he just doesn’t have the heart. “If I’d have known, I wouldn’t… I was so worried.”

Without even thinking about it Heechul reaches out, strokes Han Geng’s head, gently, with a soft reverence. He doesn’t say anything, they just sit there in silence for a few minutes Heechul listens for the Immortal presences in the house. One and a half, Siwon and Sungmin. Then, quiet at first and then louder and then louder still, two more melodies start up in his head. Hyukjae and Zhou Mi, coming back from the dead. Heechul once again tries to get up. Han Geng once again pushes him back down.

“No.” Han Geng says and his tome brokers no argument. But it’s in Heechul’s nature to argue, it’s what he does best. “Kangin took the car, you have no way of following.”

“I’ll steal one.”

“No.”

“I’m going t…” Heechul’s rant is cut off by a kiss. A soft and tender but still very demanding kiss. “At least tell Siwon…” Heechul starts talking again as soon as Han Geng breaks the kiss.

“Are you always this difficult?“

“Have you been paying attention at all?”

Han Geng kisses him again, more insistent and at first Heechul tries to push him back, push him away…But Han Geng’s mouth is so warm, his touch is so welcoming. Heechul kisses him back and it’s not quite like he’s come home, but it’s close.

They don’t have sex, at least not the hard and fast pleasure they both had last night. It’s gentle and it’s subtle and Heechul almost comes in his pants from the gentle fervour of Han Geng’s touches, from his kisses. But there is guilt there, mixed in with the exciting fizz and fuzz of sensuous stokes, guilt that he—Heechul—is here and safe and Kangin is out facing the unknown. Though somewhere in the back of his mind he knows, has always knows, that this is Kangin’s, no Youngwoon’s, fight. Han Geng holds him, kisses him, brushes up against him and it’s almost like they are caught up in their own little world.

Heechul tries not to sleep. Tries hard, something in him is afraid to close his eyes, he’s afraid that he will be alone when he opens them again. Sleep claims him in the end though and when he wakes again it’s dark, Han Geng is still there beside him.

 

…end interlude three


	13. Chapter Nine: This is war…and there ain’t nothing funny about it.

It’s stuffy in the trunk of the car. It’s dank and it’s cramped and it smells of motor oil and vaguely of urine. His legs ache, his muscles are racked with tension, his chest hurts, his head hurts. Jungsu doesn’t know how long they, Kibum, has been driving for, he has no idea where they are going or how long it will take to get there. He’s scared. Scared to breathe, scared to move, scared to close his eyes.

There is a lot of junk stuffed into this space with him, unidentified objects dig into his back, press into his sides. Kibum drives fast, dangerously. As they fly through the streets screeching around corners and bouncing over uneven back roads all that junk—and Jungsu—bounces too.

After what feels like a lifetime Kibum stops the car, slamming on the breaks with such force that Jungsu is thrown up and around, his head hitting the roof of the trunk. Hard. Dazed, he tries to blink through the pain as the cramped world around him spins and whirls. After a few minutes he hears faint footsteps out side his metal tomb and then the trunk is thrown open and Kibum smiles down at him. It’s an odd, uneven smile, strained and awful. Jungsu tries to shrink back into the relative safety of the trunk, Kibum’s smile just gets wider like they are playing some kind of fun game.

“Hi,” Kibum says and he reaches out his hand, grips Jungsu’s shirt and hauls him out of the trunk. Kibum isn’t that much taller than Jungsu, maybe an inch or so, less body mass, but Kibum has this strength borne of madness. They stand there beside the car for a few frozen minutes, Kibum looks him up and down several times, sizing him up. Kibum’s smile turns into a sneer of disgust and Jungsu has the feeling that he has been assessed and been found wanting. He’s not sure why this bothers him, there is this naïve hope that this man, this mad boy, might be less likely to kill him if he likes him.

Stupid, really.

Kibum turns away from him, turns back to the trunk. He leans over, leans into the trunk, roots around. For a brief minute Jungsu thinks about bolting, just taking off and running. He doesn’t know where he is, looks like a field, middle of nowhere, but civilization can’t be far away. People, there has to be someone somewhere. He didn’t think he made any movement, any sound, but he must have done, Kibum stands back up. He half pivots around, pulls out his gun, cocks the trigger.

“Bullets are faster than you.” Kibum says. He’s smiling but his eyes are empty, his voice is cold. Jungsu shivers. Kibum turns back to the trunk, having not found what he’s rooting for.

“Why are you doing this?” Jungsu asks, he tries to keep his voice sounding calm and at ease, like he’s not terrified.

“Because,” Kibum says in that same dead tone. He stands back from the car, there is something in his hand, he looks triumphant, he starts to fiddle with it, tying it into a loose knot. Jungsu looks at the object but it’s like his brain refuses to register what it is. “I can.”

And then the noose is around Jungsu’s neck, the rope is harsh and heavy, rough against his skin. Kibum pulls on the rope but doesn’t pull it tight, the knot of the noose rests flush against Jungsu’s Adam’s Apple but there is still room for him to breathe, room to swallow. Still, it’s constricting, Jungsu imagines it getting tighter with each breath he takes.

“Come on.” Kibum says, his voice cajoling. “Let’s go, we’re walking from here.” Kibum pulls on the rope and Jungsu doesn’t even try to resist, he just follows where Kibum leads. The sky is greying, the time fading towards twilight, it’s hard to see clearly in the weird half gloom. The ground is uneven and messy there are small rocks and stones buried under the grass and a few times Jungsu feels himself stumble. Kibum has left some slack in the rope and he’s not walking too fast or too far ahead of Jungsu, there is leeway for him to trip, but Jungsu feels like the noose is strangling him anyway. They walk for while, five, maybe ten minutes and then Kibum stops. They are still essentially in the middle of nowhere, all Jungsu sees is grey skies and rough grass. And Kibum.

“Now we wait.” Kibum says and he pulls on the rope, pulls Jungsu closer.

“Wait for what?” Jungsu asks and this time his voice does waiver. He doesn’t really want to know the answer but he has to ask anyway.

“For Daddy to come home.”

Kibum pulls on the rope again, harder this time and _this_ time Jungsu does feel the noose tighten. Kibum puts a hand on Jungsu’s shoulder, forces him down, down onto his knees, forces Jungsu to sit at his feet.

“Good puppy.” Kibum says his voice chillingly soothing. He reaches down and starts stroking Jungsu’s hair. Slowly, almost gently. Jungsu freezes, tries to resist the urge to shake off the touch, holds his breath.

He’s scared. Scared for the others back at the bar, hopes Ryeowook is ok, not in too much pain. He hopes that Hyukjae and Zhou Mi have woken up, is scared that they might not have, he’s scared that they won’t. He hopes that Kangin, Youngwoon, will come for him, wants to see him, needs to hold him. But he’s scared that this is what Kibum wants, wants Kangin to come. Jungsu is scared of what Kibum will do to him—to the both of them—if he comes. Jungsu is scared of what Kibum will do to him if Kangin doesn’t.

“He’s here.” Kibum sounds breathless, excited, hopeful. Jungsu feels his heart sink. He looks around, he can’t see anyone, see anything other than wild fields and darkness. But Immortal’s can hear each other, can’t they? They hear each other in their heads, Jungsu doesn’t understand it—probably never will—but Kibum can hear Kangin coming. Jungsu just doesn’t know how far away Kangin is.

There is silence, all Jungsu can hear is the sound of his too rapid heartbeat. And then…

“KIBUM!”

Jungsu hears Kangin call out, loud, demanding. Jungsu’s heart beats faster.

 

||

 

“Let’s go back to the start.”

That’s what Kibum said. It had nothing to do with where to find Heechul, Kangin knew that then and he knows it now. If it hadn’t been for Zhou Mi and his freaky dreams then they would have never found Heechul in time. Because Siwon was right, it was a place he had blocked from his mind, from his life. Maybe, with some time, with some encouragement he might have thought to go there, to look. But by then Heechul would have been long dead, his body left to rot. An ignoble death for a great man.

“Let’s go back to the start.”

It’s hard to remember every kill he’s made, every head he’s taken. After so many years all the numbers, all the different essences just blur together. But he remembers his first. He remembers how his hands shook, how he could barely hold up his sword, he remembers how he thought he had been prepared but really he hadn’t been. Nothing—not the training, not the abuse that passed for motivational speeches from his teacher—nothing could have prepared him for the way it felt to hack through someone else’s neck. He’d thrown up after and his teacher had proclaimed him a coward.

Kangin remembers another first kill too. Remembers taking Kibum to the field, a unusable piece of land on the outskirts of Seoul, he remembers the challenging Immortal laughing that the ‘kid’ had to bring his teacher with him, remembers Kibum’s grim little smile when the Challenger asked if Kibum was ready for this. Kangin remembers walking away and leaving Kibum to it, he remembers how the fight didn’t start until Kangin was out of sight. Kangin couldn’t see the two fighters, but he could hear the fight. They fought with such a ferocity that the sound of their clashing blades was near deafening. Kibum hadn’t been nervous, scared, when Kangin brought him to the fight. That alone should have maybe been a warning. Kibum had been excited, restless, longing for the kill. Despite the challenger being older, stronger, Kibum didn’t expect to lose. Kangin remembers his own doubts, his own fears, remembers thinking that it was too soon for Kibum to fight anyone let alone someone so skilled.

That’s where it started, this thing with Kibum. It started on that day, at that field, when Kibum took his first head.

As Kangin stands here now, on the edge of that field, the place where civilization stops, he thinks that this might have been the same wild area that Heechul stepped on to fight with Zhou Mi. Kangin wonders just how many battles have been fought on this field. How many battles have been fought and how many battles have been lost?

He can hear Kibum now, hear that stilted sound. It’s sounds more frantic now, the skip beat rhythm is faster than when Kangin first heard it days ago. Kangin knows it was Kibum he heard back then, knows for sure now. He wonders if Kibum recognized Kangin then, if he too heard a familiar Immortal melody. It used to be that Kibum’s radius for detecting Immortals was half of what Kangin’s is now, but things change. It’s been well over a hundred tears since they last faced each and God only knew how many heads Kibum had taken in that time and Kangin had been out of the game for a while.

He couldn’t tell exactly where Kibum is in this field, so he walks to the middle, the middle, he thinks, is the most likely place. The buzzing in his head gets louder and then louder still as he walks. Kangin hopes that Kibum has Jungsu with him, he can’t bear to think of Jungsu caught in some sick trap like Heechul was.

And then there they are, Kangin sees two figures, one standing, one sitting. They are barely outlines against the dark sky, but there they are waiting for him.

“KIBUM!” Kangin calls out as he marches towards them.

 

||

 

Jungsu blinks in the gloom, looks to where he thinks Kangin’s voice originates from. Sound travels differently at night and he can’t concentrate on anything much beyond the pain in his neck. Kangin starts of as a shadow moving in the dark, a smudged blur on the edge of his vision. But then he gets closer, Jungsu sees him and it’s not until Kangin is only a few feet away that Jungsu lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The rope around his neck constricts slightly and Jungsu chokes.

“Let him go.” Kangin says. Kangin keeps his voice even but there is such a quiet fury there that Jungsu shrinks back a little.

Kibum chuckles, a light airy sound, it sounds eerie in the stillness of the night. Kibum starts wrapping the rope around his hand and when all the slack is gone Jungsu has no choice but to go where he is being pulled least the noose tighten even more. He’s on his knees now, his face pressed into Kibum’s thigh, it’s getting hard to breathe.

“Stop it.” Kangin’s voice is urgent now, urgent but fading. It’s hard for Jungsu to hear anything passed the thumping of his blood in his ears. White spots dance in front of his eyes, they smear and scorch over his field of vision like a motion picture film melting until all he can see is white and he can’t breathe. “Stop it.” He thinks he hears Kangin say again. “You’re killing him, Bummie-ah, stop it please.”

And then he can breathe again, albeit choking, gasping breaths. His limbs feel week and shaky, it’s an effort to support himself, to keep himself upright. Kibum lets go of the rope and Jungsu falls to the ground. It’s an after thought but he manages to put his arms out in front of him to brace his fall. He feels the skin on the palm of his hands tear as they scrape across stone. It’s a stinging pain, sharp, real, he feels it, that means he’s not dead. Jungsu wonders just how long that will be the case.

“I think I like hearing you say please.” Kibum says. “Say it again.” Kibum’s voice is cajoling but Kangin stays silent, not rising to the bait.

Jungsu fumbles with the knot at his neck, his fingers feel half numb and clumsy, he can’t undo it but he can loosen in a little. Now, finally, he can breathe.

“What’s the matter, Youngwoon?” Kibum asks. “Won’t you raise your sword while your pet is around? Won’t you fight me?”

“Just as soon as Leeteuk is safe and out of the area I will happily take your head, Bummie-ah.”

Leeteuk. The name is like a jolt to the heart, to the brain. Kangin’s voice uttering that word, it cuts though Jungsu’s stupor. He blinks, shakes his head, it makes him feel dizzy but that dizziness quickly recedes. His vision clears. He sees the end of the rope, it’s trailing loose at Kibum’s feet. Slowly, carefully, Jungsu takes hold of the rope and starts to reel it in. But Kibum sees this small movement and he lunges for the loose end, snatches it up before Jungsu can pull it in. Jungsu is dragged to his feet, pulled close to Kibum. Once again he can’t breathe, once again his vision blurs and fades.

“Protect me, Mortal boy.” Kibum says, mock fear in his voice. “Protect me from the big bad wolf.”

“Let him go, Kibum.”

“No, Youngwoon, I won’t.”

Kangin has his sword out, he holds it up and ready, he charges forward, Jungsu closes his eyes. There is a swish and a wet thump, a shriek of pain. Something warm, wet, splashes over his face, it goes in his mouth, the taste is bitter on his tongue.

“Jungsu run!” He hears Kangin yell, but Jungsu doesn’t run. Instead he opens his eyes and looks down, wishes he hadn’t.

Kibum’s hand is still holding on to the rope but that hand is no longer attached to Kibum. Jungsu looks at the screaming Immortal, Kibum has dropped his sword, his now free hand is clutching at the bloody stump where his left hand should have been. Jungsu fights the urge to throw up.

“Jungsu, RUN!” Kangin says again but Jungsu can’t run now, sick fascination has him rooted to the spot. He watches as sparks dance over the stump and when Kibum lets go of it Jungsu watches as those sparks form an abstract pattern that vaguely resembles a hand. Kibum flexes the sparks like they are fingers and then they are actual fingers. Kibum rotates the new appendage, waves it in front of his face.

“I can’t believe you did that.” Kibum says and it sounds as if he is laughing. “Good as new now though.”

Jungsu looks down again, Kibum’s old hand is gone. Kangin grabs hold of Jungsu, pulls Jungsu behind him.

“Run.” Kangin hisses at him.

“I can’t leave you.” Jungsu can’t, he won’t.

“I can’t kill him with you here.” Kangin almost pleads. “The lightening will kill you too. I can’t risk fighting him and if he kills me then you and I both will be dead.”

There is a part of Jungsu that would almost prefer it that way. He doesn’t think he could carry on if Kangin—if Youngwoon—lost this fight.

“I won’t lose.” Kangin says quietly, defiantly, determinedly. “Please, run.”

Jungsu runs then. He doesn’t know what direction he’s going in but he keeps on running.

 

||

 

Thunder rolls across the sky but no lightning follows with it. The air feels heavy with the coming storm, a real storm this time, not the faux threat that the Gathering brings with it. This mystical thing, this unknown element that is the Gathering, it dissipates just as quickly as it gathers and Kangin can feel that pull, that call to arms, it’s fading.

“We missed it.” Kibum says but he doesn’t sound disappointed.

Kangin has a deep sense of foreboding. This gathering wasn’t even half of what it promised to be. Lasting only a few days, it feels if anything like a warm up. But a warm up for what? Kangin doesn’t know, doesn’t think he wants to know. At least, he thinks grimly, with the twin distractions of Jungsu and Kibum he got his wish to sit the Gathering out. It happened around him, without him.

Kibum picks his sword up, he tosses it from hand to hand, testing out his new limb. It seems to be working just fine.

“Shall we do this then?” Kangin says. He feels jumpy and he doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s because he can’t be completely sure that Jungsu is safe and out of the area. Kangin and Kibum, they are both old—Kibum is two hundred and fifty and Kangin would rather not think about his own age. The resulting Quickening is likely to be powerful, violent and far reaching.

“So impatient.” Kibum says and he starts to move, starts to edge to the side. Kangin mirrors this move and they start to circle each other like caged lions. “What no last big speech? No ‘so it’s come down to this’? No last lesson from the great teacher?”

“No, Bummie-ah. Let’s just get this done, I have somewhere I have to be.” Someone to go back to, people who count on him. It hits him then, just how quickly his life has turned around in the blink of an eye. And he wasn’t even expecting it.

Kibum stops moving, cocks his head to one side, he looks almost sad.

“You gave up on me.” He says and oh god he looks so young, innocent. For the briefest second Kangin sees a glimpse of the man Kibum used to be. There was a part of Kangin that wanted to believe that man was still there, lurking underneath the madness. But like an apparition the image of who Kibum was is gone and in its place is insanity.

“Yes, I did.” Kangin says simply and he shrugs, a dismissive gesture. “I gave up on you a long, long time ago.” He can’t bring himself to say ‘before you killed my wife’. He just can’t. “I regret taking you in.” Kangin continues. “Is that what you want to hear? I should have left you for the wolves.”

Kibum’s reaction is sudden and immediate and violent, Kangin almost wasn’t ready for it, his reflexes slowed. Kibum charges, his sword held up in a classic attack position, familiar, safe. Kangin blocks it with his own sword, pushes Kibum back but he also staggers back himself, forced backwards by Kibum’s forward momentum. Kibum might well be more powerful, having taken far more Immortal essences into himself but there is one fact that will never change, Kangin is the one who taught him how to fight. Kibum might have learned some new tricks during those lost years but the fundamental style still remains. And before, before everything went wrong, they never did battle to see if the student could best the teacher. Kangin is bigger, physically stronger, but those aren’t always strengths in a sword fight. Kibum always was quicker than Kangin, but weigh up all their strengths and they would be just about even in a fair fight. But as Kibum jabs his sword at Kangin’s chest—aiming for the heart—it’s clear that Kibum has no intention of making this a fair fight.

Kangin spends the next few minutes—though it feels like hours—dodging well aimed strikes. Kibum is targeting vital organs, trying to wound somewhere it might kill him quickly or incapacitate him long enough for Kibum to strike the real killing blow. It’s really the quickest way to win, dirty, but Kangin can’t say that he hasn’t done it too.

Kangin starts to tire, he’s been too long on the defensive, letting Kibum have all the advantage. If there was a corner around then Kibum would have backed him into it by now. Kangin lifts his sword to attack and lunges forward, but in doing so he leaves his left side open and vulnerable. He feels Kibum’s sword pierce his skin. It hurts but Kangin grits his teeth against the pain and keeps on moving forward. He twists away to the right slightly so Kibum’s sword can’t go too deep, but it’s still imbedded in his side.

Kibum, though, doesn’t see what’s coming until it’s already too late.

With his sword still in KanginKib—um’s holding onto the hilt with both hands—there is nothing defending Kibum’s most vulnerable spot and Kangin swings his sword with such force that he barely feels any resistance as he cuts through Kibum’s neck. Kibum’s face registers shock for the barest hint of a second—a sick parody of an expression—before his head peels back and falls to the ground. Kibum’s body following half a beat later.

It starts to rain, then the lightning comes and when it hits Kangin’s entire world goes black.

 

||

 

When he wakes up he can hear whispering. It’s coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. He thinks it might be in his head but it’s so loud, it’s so quiet, he thinks it might not be anywhere at all. The things the whispers tell him to do are alluring, the tone soft, cajoling. He thinks he might like to play.

“Youngwoon.”

He hears someone calling someone’s name. It sounds familiar, the voice sounds familiar too, but he doesn’t think the voice is calling out to him.

“Youngwoon.”

That’s not his name. He frowns, such a small movement of muscles but it hurts like his face is on fire. It hurts. Everything hurts.

“Youngwoon! Kangin!”

That’s not his name. His name is Jaesun…no, it’s Charles…no, no that’s not right either. He’s confused. There are so many voices, so many voices in his head. His name is Phoenix.

“Youngwoon, look at me.”

He blinks, looks up. A boy looms over him, a pretty little mortal boy, his eyes are large, wide with fear and apprehension. Oh yes, he thinks he might just like to play. He moves quickly, in a flash he has the boy on his back, presses him down onto rough grass. This full body movement hurts, but that hurt quickly fades, soothed away by the falling rain. The rain feels good on his skin, the boy feels good underneath him. He grinds his hips, he’s excited, hard. The boy is hard too. Interesting.

 

“Youngwoon.” The boy says urgently.

“That’s not my name.” He says and he nuzzles at the boys neck.

“Kangin.” The boy cries.

“Nope, try again.”

His name is Henry and he knows this boy…he thinks. It’s all fuzzy, messed up. No…his name is Kibum and he wants to kill. He reaches out with shaking hands and takes hold of the boy’s neck, squeezes.

“Youngwoon. Please, don’t” The boy’s voice is strained, strangled, there is fear there.

“Oh god.” Kangin breathes and it’s like the world snaps back into focus and he sees… “Leeteuk.” Kangin feels sick, sick at what he almost did, sick at what he wanted to do. He lets go of Jungsu’s neck and rolls away. He lies on his back looking up at the stars. The rain hurts as it falls onto his face but he doesn’t close his eyes. He feels Jungsu place a hand on his cheek, a soft touch, he shakes it away.

“You need to get away from me.” Kangin says. He’s Kangin now, now, he knows who he is. “I’m not myself.” But Jungsu doesn’t move away, instead he moves closer.

“You won’t hurt me now.” Jungsu says, his voice is horse but he talks with confidence.

No, Kangin doesn’t want to hurt him, but he still might. Jungsu lies next to him, clings to him. And they lay there like that, in the pouring rain, neither talking, neither moving away from the other.

*

Jungsu drives them back, drives them home. Neither of them are fully recovered, not even close. But Kangin still has those voices in his head, they are faded now that Kibum’s essence has almost settled within his own. But still, they are there. Kangin’s afraid he might run the car off the road if the voices told him to. But after an hour in the car with Jungsu behind the wheel, Kangin almost wishes he’d called Siwon to have someone to come and get them, even if it meant that someone would have to steal a car to do it.

They pull up outside the bar, Jungsu turns of the ignition and just sits there staring out of the windscreen. Kangin closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, counts…one, two, three, four Immortals and a half. Just the way it should be. The door of the bar is still missing but it has been boarded over, it’s a hap hazard, makeshift job but it looks solid.

“We’ll have to go through the back door.” Kangin says and Jungsu nods dumbly but doesn’t move. Jungsu casts a look at the bar, quick, furtive, like he’s scared of what’s inside and that’s when Kangin realizes that Jungsu doesn’t know what happened after he was taken. The car ride had been largely silent, with Kangin not knowing what to say and Jungsu likely too afraid to ask.

Kangin looks at Jungsu, in the dim glow of the streetlights he can see mottled bruises forming on Jungsu’s neck. Rope marks and finger prints. Kangin reaches out, gently brushes his fingers over them. Jungsu flinches slightly.

“They’re ok.” Kangin says quietly. Jungsu looks at him, eyes wide, hopeful. “Leeteuk, they’re ok. Hyukjae and Zhou Mi are awake now. I can hear them.” Kangin taps his head.”

“Ryeowookie?”

“His leg is going to hurt for a while, but he will be ok. Siwon took care of him.”

Jungsu lets out a relieved sigh and sags in his seat. He looks exhausted, Kangin is beyond tired too. All he wants is to get Jungsu into bed so they can both sleep.

“We should go in.” Kangin says. “Before someone comes out and gets us. Heechul will know I am out here.”

Jungsu nods again but still doesn’t move.

“Are you ok?”

Another nod. “I think so, it’s ok, I don’t need you to carry me inside.”

Kangin laughs. “But what if I want to?”

Jungsu laughs too and moves to get out of the car. Kangin doesn’t miss the way Jungsu winces when he stretches.

*

“You bastard.” Are the first words that Kangin hears when they walk into the bar. They do have to come in through the back so they enter through the kitchen, everyone except Ryeowook and Jongwoon are assembled there waiting for them. Siwon explains that Ryeowook is resting and Jongwoon won’t leave his side. Kangin isn’t sure that he approves of just how much of a liking his Watcher has taken to the young cook, that connection might mean that Jongwoon might stay around.

When they come in, Hyukjae, Donghae, Kyuhyun and Sungmin all race to Jungsu, crowd around him, cling to him. Kangin feels a stab of jealousy at having Jungsu’s attention taken away from him. It’s stupid, he knows, but without Jungsu Kangin is left alone to deal with…

“You bastard.” Heechul says again. No hello, no ‘glad you’re not dead’. “You bastard, you killed him.”

Heechul is sleep rumpled, his eyes are puffy—he looks like he just woke up—and he’s angry, really, really angry. Han Geng stands by his side. Hang Geng looks angry too, less so than Heechul, Kangin thinks it’s likely that he’s only upset because Heechul is upset.

“This is fucking unfair.” Heechul laments, his rant losing steam before it even really got started. “I’m the one that got killed, _twice_! I’m the one that was strapped down to a wooden table like some bargain basement damsel in distress and I didn’t get to kill him even a little bit. I hate you Youngwoon.” Heechul turns on his heel. “Come on Hannie.” He says as he stalks away.

“Hannie?” Han Geng repeats, he looks at Kangin quizzically. Kangin laughs a little at the confusion on the boy’s face. Han Geng smiles ruefully.

Heechul stops his away march when he realizes that Han Geng isn’t following him. He turns back around.

“I’ll never forgive you for this, Youngwoon.” He says firmly and then he’s gone, off up the stairs and up to the bedrooms.

“Is he going to be bitter about this for long?” Han Geng asks and Kangin laughs harder, he claps Han Geng on the back.

“I like you kid.” Kangin says. “So I am very, very sorry for the amount of times you are going to have to hear Heechul recount just how much of an unfair asshole I was.”

Han Geng deflates a little, slumps his shoulders. Kangin almost feels sorry for him, almost.

“Off you go now.” Kangin gives Han Geng a little push towards the stairs. “The Princess will be waiting for a goodnight kiss.”

Han Geng blushes a deep red and Kangin just keeps laughing.

 

…End chapter nine.


	14. What’s future is epilogue…AKA the epilogue.

_Osaka. Club Soma. 12am. Three weeks after._

 

Kangin feels it the moment the other Immortal walks into the bar. The buzzing in his head is loud, this approaching Immortal is old. Underneath that noise Kangin hears another presence, not as strong, not as loud. It’s almost faded but it sounds like it has potential. Kangin relaxes in his seat, keeps on drinking his drink, keeps on looking at the dance floor. He’s halfway to tipsy and he thinks he needs to be, needs something to counter act the ‘so hip it hurts’ atmosphere of the club. He hadn’t wanted to come here, this place isn’t quite his style, but he’d been out voted. This is what you get for trying to be diplomatic.

Kangin doesn’t look up when Siwon sits down beside him, he just keeps watching Hyukjae and Donghae dance, he watches as Sungmin slinks into step with them Kangin doesn’t want to let either boy out of his sight for even a second, he’s half terrified of what Jungsu would do to him if he lost one or both of them. Siwon waits a few minutes and then coughs politely, like Kangin didn’t know he was there already. Kangin casts a quick look at him and then turns back to the dance floor.

“They’ll be ok.” Siwon says and it actually sounds like he is laughing at him, the bastard. Kangin almost feels like running though the complete list of worst case scenarios, all thought up by Jungsu when Donghae begged to be allowed to tag along on this trip. He doesn’t though, it is a very long, long list. He manages to drag his attention from the dancers and looks at Siwon. It’s weird, seeing him like this, out in the world. Kangin doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to it.

“I thought that we were supposed to meet you two at your hotel tomorrow.” Kangin says and Siwon smiles, it’s a bright, radiant smile. Something Kangin hasn’t seen Siwon do in a long time.

“We checked in a few hours ago and I didn’t feel like staying in the hotel, I wanted to walk around.” Siwon taps his head. “We were just passing and I heard you.”

Siwon’s gaze travels to the dance floor, Kangin watches him watching Sungmin.

“How’s the kid working out?” Kangin asks and Siwon smiles brighter and blushes a little. Kangin has a feeling he’s going to wish he hadn’t asked.

“He’s amazing.” Siwon gushes, actually gushes. Kangin downs the rest of his drink. “He’s strong, brave, and a natural fighter.”

“Chullie-ah is all those things too.”

Siwon’s smile fades slightly, Kangin feels guilty.

“We were different people back then.” Siwon says, his voice wistful, sad. “And he was my student.”

“Sungmin’s your student.”

“No, it’s more like I’m his.” Siwon’s smile is back now, just as bright, just as radiant. “I have been out of the world so long it’s like I forgot how to be in it. These last few weeks have been an experience.”

Experience? Kangin thinks that’s one word for it. Kangin looks at Siwon, really scrutinizes it. He looks happy, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, but Kangin doesn’t think everything is completely ok. A couple of weeks of travel and—Kangin suspects from the relaxed slant of Siwon’s shoulders—some great sex won’t fix everything.

“Have you told him?” Kangin asks. Has Siwon told Sungmin the reason for his self imposed exile? Siwon’s smile slips again and Kangin thinks the answer is no.

“He asked.” Siwon says unhappily. “And I’ve told him that I will tell him, but…” Siwon’s voice trails off. Kangin gets it, he does, there are things he may never tell Jungsu. But Kangin thinks it might be better for the kid to know. “When will your swords be ready?” Siwon asks, changing the subject.

Yes, the swords. The reason Kangin brought Hyukjae to Japan—and Donghae since the two would not be separated. Baby Immortal’s first sword.

“A week or so. We are staying with Sensei until they are done. Hyukjae isn’t quite a natural at fighting with a sword but he has the potential to at least be ok.”

“And then what will you do?”

“When the swords are done? Then I’m going home.”

 

||

 

 _Seoul. Leeteuk’s bar. 10am. One month and one week after._

 

Kangin is alone in the bar when the boy comes in, everyone else is in back. The boy looks half starved, he’s dirty, his hair long and grimy. Kangin heard him before he saw him, heard that weak little half buzz.

“Hi,” The boy says, his voice is surprisingly deep. “I, uh…” The boy is skittish, he hunches his shoulders like he expects someone to hit him. “I need a job.” He finishes quickly, he looks hopefully at Kangin. Kangin smiles grimly. The boy grimaces and looks down at himself. “I know I don’t look like much, but I’ll work hard.”

“I don’t make the decisions here, kid.” Kangin says. “Wait here a minute.” Kangin dives into the back, calling for Jungsu. Kangin watches Jungsu as he considers the boy and it’s like he can almost _see_ Jungsu’s heart melt as he takes in the boy’s bedraggled appearance.

It’s not like there isn’t room in the house now. Sungmin is with Siwon, Donghae moved in with Hyukjae and Kyuhyun spends most of his time with Zhou Mi. They reached the sleeping over stage while Kangin was in Japan. Jungsu called him in the middle of the night to fret. Jongwoon has moved into Ryeowook’s room on a semi permanent basis, Kangin really doesn’t approve of this.

Jungsu looks torn, the boy looks sorry for himself. Kangin knows Jungsu needs to have someone to take care of and all his birds were leaving the nest.

Hyukjae lopes in then, he stops when he sees the boy, he stares.

“Hey,” Hyukjae says, pointing at the boy. “He sounds like Sungmin.” Hyukjae smiles, pleased with himself for recognizing a Potential. Kangin pats him on the back, he’s kind of proud.

That revelation seems to make up Jungsu’s mind. He slips an arm around the boy, grimacing when he realizes just how bad the boy smells.

“We can’t pay much, but we can feed you and give you a place to sleep. Let’s get you cleaned up first.” Jungsu starts to lead the boy away and at first he resists, still a little scared. “What’s your name?”

“Minho.”

 

||

 

 _Still Seoul. Still Leeteuk’s bar. 3pm. Still one month and one week after._

 

An irate Buddhist Monk bangs on the back door, he’s got hold of Heechul by the collar, shaking him. Heechul is smirking, Kangin never has liked that smirk.

“Take this.” The Monk says and he roughly pushes Heechul at him. Kangin looks behind the Monk, Han Geng stands there, he looks guilty. “He is banned from the temple.” And then the Monk is gone. Kangin watches him stalk away.

“Chullie-ah?”

“Yes?” Heechul purrs.

“Siwon lived at that temple for one hundred and thirty years and you get kicked out of there after a month?”

Heechul doesn’t say anything, just pushes his way passed Kangin and into the bar.

“I am very sorry.” Han Geng says and he bows deeply.

“Oh believe me, kid. I don’t for one second think that it’s your fault.”

 

||

 

 _Paris. Café Des Deux Magots. 1pm. six months after._

 

Kangin has never been to Paris. It was the one city he’d always avoided with no real reason why. But he is glad that he came here with Jungsu, even if it did take some persuading to get Jungsu to leave his flock. Kangin thought Jungsu needed a break and everyone—except Jungsu—agreed. But here Jungsu is, sitting in the sun, a smile on his face. If he has checked his phone every five minutes looking for news from home? Well. Kangin is pretending not to notice.

“We’ll be going home soon,” Kangin says. “So just relax.”

Jungsu smiles weakly.

Home, such a strange concept, Kangin hasn’t had one for so long. But he knows that he doesn’t have to go back to Korea, go back to the house he now shares with Jungsu—and various other people. Kangin watches Jungsu watching the pigeons, in the middle of the throng of birds there is a lone crow. A group of children run into the middle of the flock and the birds disperse. The crow caws loudly as it flies overhead.

“There is an expression.” Kangin starts. “The quickest route between the two points is as the crow flies.” Kangin stands up. “If I want to go home now all I have to do is travel ‘as the crow flies‘.” He moves to Jungsu, wraps his arms around him. “Oh look, I’m home.”

 

…THE END.


End file.
